Thwarted Fate, The Book of Descent, Volume II
by The Whills
Summary: Like fire across the galaxy, the Clone Wars is spreading, and with it grows the strength of the Dark Side. As the lines between good and evil blur, the Chosen One struggles to find the balance between his duty, his conscience and his heart.
1. Prologue, Jedi Musings

**PROLOGUE**

**Jedi Musings**

Casualties of the Clone War had reached millions. After the last sighting of Dooku on Raxus Prime, the former Jedi seemed to have disappeared into the very fabric of space. His old Master could not even sense him in the Force. The Dark Side hid its own very well.

Once upon a time the old Master's own Master had told him: _One can never step in the same river twice. The water is always running, always flowing. More so in the river of life that is the Force._

It could have ended that day on Geonosis. There was a split second before the Ancient One had stretched out his hand to hold that pillar and save the lives of his young ones, where the river of fate could have taken a different bend.

All he had to do was watch his brethren killed.

Kill his own lost son.

Not even the Ancient One could make that choice.

So Dooku had escaped and the Dark Side had been allowed to prosper.

"_Do you think that Dooku was right? That the Senate is now under the control of a Sith?"_

For the thousandth time the old Master wondered. Wondered why his once-Padawan who was so clearly embroiled in the Darkness would choose to reveal its source to a Jedi.

Wondered at what point his son had slipped and he had failed to catch him.

_The more truth a deception contains, the more powerfully it works._

In these times every utterance, thought, deed and impassivity was a double-edged sword that cut away at the boundaries between Light and Dark, between truth and falsehood.

Some thought the Clone War was a political war, a war against insurrection. Some thought it was a war for peace and freedom from tyranny. The war had many outer manifestations. Perhaps even the Sith – if they existed – did not completely know the truth. But they were closer to it than the Jedi who were only just realizing, only just grasping the enormity of what was at stake.

The conflict between Light and Dark, between Good and Evil was eternal and this war was one more act in that unending drama. The violent search for equilibrium could only culminate in a quandary. Balance _had _to be achieved – an existence wherein one neither superceded nor annihilated the other. A paradox by its very definition because how could Light and Dark exist side by side?

_Light touches Dark. Becomes shade. Becomes shadow. Becomes like utter Darkness itself._

Yet only at the achievement of true balance could freedom be found – the freedom of the individual soul to choose its own path, for better or for worse.

A millennium ago, little earlier than the start of his own life, the Order of the Jedi had risen up to defend this freedom. And for centuries, they had been the guardians of peace and justice in the known galaxy.

Where had they lost their way?

Because they had, the Ancient One realized that now. In an attempt to secure their own place in the evolving galaxy, the Jedi had misplaced their priorities. They had lost their vigilance. And the ever-present Darkness had drawn a shroud over them all.

The Light was dimming, not so much being extinguished but being muted, darkened… As old Jedi rose up against their brethren and their fathers… As young Jedi used the same methods they fought against.

_You never step in the same river twice._

Once, the Ancient One had been given the opportunity to put an end to this war. He knew now that the opportunity would not be given him again. Perhaps it would be given to another. Perhaps.

Once, the Jedi had been shown an opportunity to achieve this balance. They had rejected it – then taken it. But surely, just as the waters of the Living Force shifted eternally, an opportunity missed should be lost forever.

But to believe that would be to succumb to the powers of the Dark Side which touched everything that came its way with desolation…

The Living Force was weakened with the daily losses of the life force of its children. The Unifying Force was poisoned by the strength of the Dark Side.

Hope. It was a small, feeble candle in the growing Dark. But if he were to let it extinguish, then they would be plunged into despair.

Wearily, the Ancient One lifted himself from his musings. It was not the first time, nor would it be the last, that the Force had been unable to give him comfort.

* * *


	2. Attack on Kamino

CHAPTER I

**Attack on Kamino**

On the edge of the galaxy, beyond the outer rim and past the Rishi Maze, the planet Kamino hung in relative isolation. She was normally dark and silent and her pervasive haze of thunderstorms put off unwanted visitors. It discouraged them almost as well as it blocked the light and warmth of the nearby sun. Most passing ships assumed the watery orb was uninhabited and paid it no mind. It wasn't a mistake they would make today.

Today, in the coldness of space above Kamino's stormy atmosphere, a full-scale battle was raging.

Far below, beneath the conflict and cloud cover, at the heart of the planetary capital of Tipoca City, Master Mace Windu sat across a holotable from Prime Minister Lama Su. Commentary had ceased hours ago, leaving both leaders to watch the battle in tense silence. Bathed in eerie green light, they followed the progress of tiny images as they zipped back and forth in front of them.

Several classes of ships filled the grid. The familiar triangular outlines of the Jedi _Aethersprites_ could be seen to be slightly outnumbered by elongated oval Kaminoan crafts. Chasing and being chased by both were swarms of disc-shaped Federation fighters. No sooner did the Jedi and Kaminoans gain the upper-hand than another wave of droid fighters would pour from the bay of the nearby Federation star cruiser.

Though the droid fighters were numerous, their automated piloting skills couldn't compare to those of the Republic forces. The hologrid flashed continuously as, one by one, they were eliminated. Far less frequently a Jedi starfighter or a Kaminoan craft would erupt in a larger white-hot blaze of energy. And every time, Master Windu felt the loss of life through the Force. He raised piercing black eyes to Lama Su, noting that the Prime Minister's expression didn't change as Kaminoan soldiers died. That was to be expected. The Kaminoans valued life differently than most sentient beings. Their cloning technology made it easy to come by.

Another large explosion and its accompanying wave of emptiness brought Master Windu's eyes back to the battle.

Initially the droid starfighters hadn't posed much of a threat. Kamino had very few air targets to strike and Federation fighters had no bombing capabilities. As the battle wore on, though, it had become clear that surface attack wasn't their mission.

Republic intelligence, gathered mostly from a hijacked data disc sent by undercover Jedi Quinlan Vos, had reported that the Separatists would strike Kamino suddenly and unexpectedly. Their goal would be to take over the cloning facility in order to cripple the Republic's newly formed Clone Army by denying it reinforcements.

Vos's data showed the Separatists planning a preliminary strike in which heavy, powerful gunships would be used to directly assault the city's energy shield until it weakened and failed. Once the shields were disabled, ground troops would be sent to the surface in transports where they would overrun the city and take charge of the cloning operation.

There was just one glaring inconsistency between that plan and this battle. Whoever planned _this_ attack had anticipated a strong starfighter defense – something Kamino, with its token fleet of older C-78 fighters, did not have. It was a well-known fact in Federation circles that Seinar Fleet Systems was running behind on their development of starfighters for the Clone Army.

The original intercepted plan could have been easily derailed by three squadrons of Jedi starfighters. The _Aethersprites_, faster and more maneuverable, would have easily surprised and disabled the unwieldy gunships, as well as any troop transport ships. The small ground force of Jedi and Clones in Tipoca City would've effortlessly repelled any remaining invaders who managed to sneak through the Jedi fighter defensive.

Therefore, it had been quite a surprise when, instead of a small armada of gunships, the Federation capitol starship that emerged from Hyperspace had sent out wave after wave of starfighters.

The unexpected change in assault tactics could mean only one thing: a leak in Republic intelligence sources.

Master Windu forced his focus back to the battle being played out under his nose. Once again the tide was turning in favor of the Republic, but just as he allowed himself a slow, calming breath, a new threat emerged from hyperspace. Slowly it crept into the margin of the holotable display, edging its way into visual range. Almost immediately, he recognized the trademark bubble-covered outline of the vessel.

Master Windu's usually stern expression dissolved into stark disbelief.

He marshaled himself quickly, but even his usual iron control couldn't erase the disappointment hovering around the edges of his eyes and mouth.

So the rumors _were_ correct. The Mon Calamari, until recently citizens of one of the founding worlds of the Republic, had joined the Separatists.

Suddenly the day seemed darker and even bleaker than it had moments before.

Across from the Jedi Master, Lama Su remained silent and inscrutable.

* * *

Far above Kamino's wave-crested surface, Republic forces were likewise considering the newcomer to the battle. 

Anakin Skywalker processed this development from the limited vantage point offered by his maneuvering starfighter. He recognized the Mon Calamari construction without astonishment or sadness. The Mon Cal had never made a secret of the fact that they despised Supreme Chancellor Palpatine. It didn't surprise him to see hard evidence that they were now in league with the Separatists.

What _had_ surprised him was the tenacity with which his fellow pilots had faced down the overwhelming flood of droid starfighters. Statistically speaking, they should all have been killed hours ago. Such was the logical outcome of being so drastically outnumbered. It was a tribute to the acumen of Jedi Masters Aayla Secura, commander of Red Squadron, and her counterparts, Adi Gallia and Taneen Rey, heading Blue and Green squadrons respectively that only half a dozen or so Jedi had died. All three officers had done an admirable job.

Even so, Anakin was forced to admit that their primary objective - bringing down the Federation gunboats and landing craft launching between fighter waves – had gone unrealized. Several gunboats had already begun a laser assault on the shield protecting the city's largest landing platform.

Red laser fire shot past his cockpit window and he pulled his ship hard around to evade the source. The automated fighter targeting him followed at the usual precise distance. Droid pilots were _so_ predictable, Anakin thought, drawing on the Force to find another enemy fighter from the thinning swarm around him. He carefully piloted his ship into its path before pulling hard on his joystick. His adrenaline surged as his fighter responded instantly, rocketing ninety degrees upward. Neither craft had time to react and they collided in a ball of orange fire.

All too easy. Anakin almost smiled.

Just ahead he noticed two new threats on Master Secura's tail. Changing course deftly he fired his lasers. Milliseconds later he dodged debris as both exploded.

"Thanks Skywalker!" Aayla's relieved alto came through the com, "I owe you one" There was silence for a moment before she spoke again. This time Anakin couldn't mistake the ironic humor in her voice. "_Another_ one."

Commander Secura had specifically requested Anakin's assignment to her squadron on this mission, insisting that his talents would be wasted if he went with his master to coordinate ground defense. Obi-Wan had been unable to deny the truth of her words and grudgingly gave permission.

It was one of the rare occasions when Anakin wished Obi-Wan had not. He usually preferred flying over ground assignment but this time he would rather have gone with his master. It would have been their first mission together since his unscheduled trip to Naboo almost a month ago. Their relationship was improving; the sacred link between Master and Apprentice had never been severed; but it had been bruised and healing was slow – steady but slow. Anakin had been looking forward to re-establishing the part of their bond that only seemed to exist when they were relying on one another as Master and Apprentice.

An incoming droid fighter caught his eye and he deliberately redirected his thoughts along with his ship. One small explosion later, his target was dispatched and Anakin was scanning the horizon for another mark.

A low voice echoed through his headset. "Red ten, this is Green Leader. Do you copy?" Commander Rey was an Iktochi and a very gifted pilot. Anakin relished every opportunity to fly with him and today was no exception.

"I copy, Green Leader." He replied.

"Come with me. We've got to find a weakness on that Mon Cal flagship."

"Affirmative, Green Leader." Anakin shifted his course toward Rey's fighter and away from the main battle. He caught up easily and together they approached the newcomer. Side by side they skimmed close to the metal hull, dodging fire from the gun turrets littering the surface.

Again, Master Rey's gravelly baritone came over the com, "Just as I thought. They have ion cannons, turbo lasers, tractor beams and scans show at least a hundred fighters." As if to confirm his words, the first wing of twenty bubble shaped Mon Calamari fighters exited the launch bay and dropped quickly towards the planet surface.

"Submersibles!" Commander Rey swore in Iktochi, "With enough of those they can easily make it to the underwater power generators!"

"We've already lost sections of the city shields." Anakin pointed out. "If they lose power the rest will go and the city will be defenseless. It won't matter how strong Obi-Wan's ground forces are."

Master Rey did not need to confirm the truth of Anakin's words. Anakin took a deep breath, chasing all other thought out of his mind. Somehow they had to bring down this flagship.

"Follow me." Obviously Master Rey had come to the same conclusion.

Anakin followed through the barrage of laser fire from the surface turrets. At this point, he thought, he'd gladly give his real arm for a squadron of bombers with a decent compliment of proton torpedoes.

He felt more than saw a shot come out of nowhere. It whizzed past his starfighter in a blaze of gold light and Anakin barely registered it before the explosion in front of him pushed his ship sideways.

Emptiness poured into his mind – the sudden absence of Master Rey's presence in the Living Force.

Panic lanced through him, the first Anakin had felt since the mission began. He swerved up, taking himself away from the huge command ship and out of range of the big lasers. On this side of the ship it was almost as if there was no battle. Open space loomed before him, cold and dark.

Welcoming.

Then he remembered Master Rey, and swallowed hard against the wave of disgust that swelled in him at the pointless loss of such a gifted Jedi. So many were dying and he couldn't remember why. He gave in to a moment of pure fury before burying it in cold resolve.

This battle needed to be over. Now. Enough Jedi had died today.

An idea tickled the back of his mind. Something that had worked once before… He turned his starfighter back towards the Mon Cal craft.

* * *


	3. Incident on Kashyyyk

**CHAPTER II**

**Incident on Kashyyyk**

A few weeks before the Battle of Geonosis, one of the major issues in the Galactic Senate had been the escalating hostility between the worlds of Trandosha and Kashyyyk. The bones cause was straight forward enough. Under mysterious circumstances, yet to be fully understood by most of the parties involved, two hundred and fifteen Wookiees on board a transport ship en route to Kashyyyk were killed near one of Trandosha's moons. The matter was worsened when, for reasons known only to them, the Trandoshan government refused to return the bodies of the dead to Kashyyyk. After pleas and treats from Kashyyyk had gone unheeded, the Wookiee Senator Yarua had ordered a blockade on all trade to Trandosha. He then declared that his people would secede from the Republic if reparations were not made to them. Jedi Master Oppo Rancis stepped in at that point and had been negotiating peace talks when the Clone Wars started. Since then, relations between Kashyyyk and Trandosha had taken a back seat in the effort of winning a galaxy wide war.

Senator Padmé Amidala had been steadily following up on the case for weeks before the Jedi had abandoned it. She had enlisted the aid of Bail Organa of Alderaan and the impressive network of Alderaani Intelligence to gather more information. In her efforts to prevent the Military Creation Act from being effected, she had sought the means to bring back the Separatists through diplomatic negotiations as opposed to weapons of war. Keeping a keen eye on the worlds that were threatening to secede had become part of the duties of the Naboo Senator's office. Her handmaiden Cordé had been directly responsible for that before she'd been killed in the line of duty on Coruscant. Dormé had since inherited her duties.

Now the war had started. In Anticipation of the Jedi's preoccupation, Amidala once again took up the cause of Trandosha and Kashyyyk, assuming a mediator's role by going into several holo-vid meetings with both parties, trying to help them negotiate some sort of compromise. The situation proved to be more complicated than it seemed at first sight. While Senator Yarua was trying to resolve the matter diplomatically, the fiercely spirited Wookiees on Kashyyyk insisted on a more tangible form of justice – revenge.

On the Trandoshans' part, Representative Hadocrassk informed Amidala that the Wookiees had been killed in an act of self defense. The Wookiees were part of the dangerous Kalmec cult and intended to terrorize the inhabitants of the moon. It was a miracle that they had been apprehended the way they had been. Finally, according to Trandoshan culture, the bodies of criminals were the properties of their victims and would be remitted to them.

Senator Yarua had decried this outrightly and passionately. Five of the Wookiees killed on that ship were sons of some of the highest ranking members of the Kashyyyk ruling class. Two of them were the sons of World Chieftain Zarrarocca himself. Hadocrassk's accusations were outrageous; the Trandoshans were grasping at straws to cover up for their blatant and characteristic xenophobia. That, insisted Yarua, was the reason why they launched an unprovoked attack on the Wookiee vessel.

Bringing the two parties together proved impossible. Neither trusted the other and refused to meet outside the confines of the Senate Dome on Coruscant. In fact, Representative Hadocrassk had returned to his world shortly after Geonosis and could give no definite time of his return.

After countless entreaties and communications, Amidala set aside the hope for a joint summit and decided to pursue a meeting with each party separately.

At first Senator Yarua refused, claiming that his people were highly opposed to negotiations of any kind. Sentiments on Kashyyyk after the issue with Trandosha were decidedly anti-Republic – especially given that the Jedi appointed to the matter had not completed his negotiations. He even went so far as to say that Amidala would be putting herself at great risk to come to Kashyyyk.

With her characteristic determination and intelligence, Amidala had knocked down each and every one of his arguments. If there was no anti-Republic hostility, she would not have needed to be involved in the first place. If this meant she would be walking into a dangerous environment, she was willing to take the risks.

When she finally departed from Naboo, it was done in the middle of the night with the utmost secrecy. Apart from a handful of close associates, no one on Coruscant, not the Jedi or the Supreme Chancellor, was aware of Amidala's mission.

* * *

The Royal Naboo shuttle had entered Kashyyyk air space over three hours ago. Only now were they finally given permission to land. 

"We are to land a few kilometers from the capital city," Captain Typho informed Senator Amidala after receiving the message from the ship's crew. "Authorization came directly from the World House. We will transfer controls to their auto-pilot and it will fly the ship to our destination."

"Very good, Captain," said Amidala, looking up at him from her desk. "I will be coming to bridge shortly."

If the frown on his face was any indication, the Captain was not pleased. "My lady, if I may speak freely - "

"No, you may not," Amidala interrupted him, promptly but not impolitely. "I have already heard your views on this matter, Captain. We proceed as planned."

The Captain replied with a curt bow. Displeasure at his mistress' decision was evident in every line of his formal exit out of the Senator's private chambers.

Amidala closed the large tome she had been studying. This was her first visit to Kashyyyk and she had spent most of her trip researching as much about the planet and its Wookie citizens as she could. One never knew what information would prove useful to her during her stay.

Two handmaidens gathered around her. Dané held open her cloak while Dormé carefully re-wound her Mistress' hair into its coils of intricate braids. Dané was newly employed in the Senator's service and her face was dutifully passive. On the other hand, there was thin line between the brows of Dormé's usual serene face.

"You may speak freely, Dormé," Amidala asked of her long-serving assistant as she slipped her hands into the sleeves of the cloak.

There was a short pause as Dormé's hands stilled on her mistress' hair. Then she said, "The Captain has good reasons for his worry, my lady. There have been rumors of Kalmec presence on Kashyyyk."

Of course, Amidala realized, the rumors about the Kalmec. One of the most successful criminal organizations in the galaxy, the cult was made up of a group of exiled Wookiees who shaved the hair off their shoulders in an effort to prove to other beings that Wookiees had actual skin beneath their fur. Headed by a leader as famous for his ruthlessness as for his complete anonymity, they were violent and brutal in their dealings with all those who crossed their path. Lately there were rumors that this group of apparent social activists was funded by the Separatists who used them to execute their more underhand tasks. Their presence on any world meant trouble, their own included. In the days leading up to the Naboo Delegation's departure to Kashyyyk, rumors of the presence of the Kalmec on Kashyyyk had tripled.

Amidala could have cared less. There could have been rumors of Count Dooku's presence on Kashyyyk for all the difference it was going to make to her plans. She got to her feet now.

"That's hardly surprising, isn't it?" she replied, in answer to Dormé's remark. "The Kalmec organization is made up entirely of Wookiees."

The pause that followed was longer. Perhaps Dormé was replaying her mistress' words and checking for sarcasm. Unfortunately, she had good cause to.

"Dormé," Amidala said, very gently. "The Kalmec organization is part of the reason why it is imperative for me to be here."

"I only care for your safety, my lady," Dormé said quietly, putting some of her own personal equipment together. Dané was already ready and she stood silently at the door, Artoo by her heels.

Amidala walked to the door and Dormé followed. Before they entered the corridor, she said to her handmaiden: "I only care for the safety of the Republic."

Her tone of voice effectively ended the conversation.

Minutes later, the ship came to a smooth landing on-planet.

From the bridge, the Senator and her intimate group of assistants watched the approach through the thick greenish clouds that melted away to reveal an ocean of trees.

Living on Kashyyyk would be like living in the sky, Padmé thought. The tall wroshyr trees that covered more than three quarters of the planet were so tall that their tops pierced the clouds. The landing platforms were hewed out of chopped trees and so they were isolated flat patches of wood surrounded by walls of trees. Navigation of space vehicles was a tricky business, barely aided by the perimeter of lights that marked each platform. It was a good thing that the Wookiees had seen it fit to have an auto-pilot guide the ship to its destination.

The platform where the Senator's ship landed was particularly isolated, several layers below the tree canopy, yet still above the city itself. Most of the lights were switched off or burnt out and the surrounding trees, swaying in a gentle breeze, cast eerie shadows over the ship so that even though it was mid-noon, daylight was dimmer than an evening on Naboo. There was no welcoming committee.

The crew on board the Senator's ship was visibly uncomfortable. Out of the corner of her eyes, Amidala saw Dormé and Dané exchange strained glances.

"There's no one here, ma'am," announced the ship's captain, stating the obvious. There were small murmurs at that.

Captain Typho walked up to his Mistress. Amidala watched him suspiciously as he leaned close to speak privately to her. "If we take off now, we would be in the air in five minutes and in hyperspace in another ten minutes."

"Open the hatch doors," Amidala said loudly. "My handmaidens and I will be disembarking."

* * *

What had looked like a gentle breeze from the ship's bridge turned out to be a stiff wind outside. Amidala and her handmaidens held the hoods of their cloaks firmly while the rest of the cloaks flapped violently. Artoo had wobbled so badly that Amidala had ordered him back into the ship. Typho winced as he and his men looked around for what should have been their welcoming party. 

Dormé kept on sneaking glances at her mistress and Padmé was beginning to wonder herself what she hoped leaving the confines of her ship would prove when with a swift whistle of large bodies flying through breeze, their welcoming party arrived.

Too suddenly for Captain Typho or his men to have done anything if there had been a real threat, three Wookiees dropped out of the branches above them.

Five seconds late, the Captain and his guards had blasters open and trained on the new arrivals.

One Wookiee, a black-furred individual with a bow-caster belt around his neck growled fiercely.

"Put down your blasters, Captain," Amidala said, and her voice almost gave away her amusement. "Do not insult the World Deputy Chieftain by pointing a weapon at him in his own world." Not waiting for the Captain to obey, she walked right up to the Wookiees and raised her arms in the customary greeting.

"You honor me by agreeing to see me," she said. "Pardon my escorts. Your arrival surprised them. We have been waiting for a long time."

You honor us by asking the invitation, Kashyyyk World Deputy Chieftain Rwallra. His Wookieespeak was standard and Amidala followed it easily. Pardon our delay. We needed to be sure that you came alone, as we agreed, without the presence of the Jedi.

"I am dishonored that you would consider me capable of breaching our agreement," Amidala retorted fiercely. The Wookiees would be unimpressed with anything less. That the association had touched a nerve only served to make her anger more authentic. That was all.

The other Wookiee growled something at her, in a dialect that was too thick and fast to understand. Rwallra growled back in the same dialect. Then he said to Amidala, It is not you that we do not trust but we are aware that the Jedi can sometimes persuade people to act against their inclinations.

_If only..._

Before Padmé could compose an appropriate retort, Rwallra spoke again, and his voice was unmistakably tinged with laughter. Besides, you owe us no apology for your men. We could have killed each one of you before they had even unholstered their weapons. Then his voice became serious again. Come, we can talk later. Time is of the essence. We must be on our way.

"How?" asked Typho a little nastily. Rwallra's remark about his skills had obviously stung. "There are no vehicles in sight."

Swiftly, one of the other two Wookiees ran to the edge of the platform and launched himself onto one of the overhanging branches. There was a shocking pause of seconds while he was suspended in the air. Amidala could hear Dané's gasp. Then his large claws grabbed hold of a long strand of kshyy vine and he pushed himself into the air. In a few minutes he was out of sight.

Each of us can carry two of you. Senator Amidala select three companions quickly and let us be on our way.

* * *

Captain Typho's objections and recriminations were the most insistent that Dormé had heard in a long time. They had made no difference in the end to their mistress. Dormé was only grateful that the ride with Padmé on Rwallra's back had been extremely short. Even now, she shuddered at the memory of flying from tree to tree, with only the Wookie's thick fur as her handhold and a rope of vine supporting both of them. 

They had been taken through a trap door into a small enclosure with walls made entirely of the branches of trees that had somehow twisted and coiled round each other. They were extremely high up in the city, if the thick clouds that could be seen through the gaps in the wall were any indication. The two Wookiees that had come with Rwallra were standing guard beneath the trap door. An oval table dominated the room and half a dozen Wookiees and Senator Amidala stood around it. Dormé, Dané and Typho stood at a corner and watched the proceedings.

Present was Senator Yarua, one of Amidala's colleagues and easily recognizable to Dormé by his matted reddish brown hair and distinctive zana-tooth necklace. World Chieftain Zarrarocca in his traditional arm bands of blue and red was also there. By his left was Rwallra. From the information manual, Dormé easily recognized the others present as high-ranking citizens of Kashyyyk.

The information manual said that the World House where the World Chieftain of Kashyyyk and his cabinet resided was located at the heart of the capital city. All meetings and decisions were made there. She had seen pictures of the elaborate board rooms with exotic decorations from all manner of Wookiee culture. This place was just a very large nest. Nothing about it had ever been mentioned in that manual. Dormé had a strong suspicion that it was _here_ in this hidden fortress that the real decisions of rule on Kashyyyk were made.

Formalities were observed and dispensed with. Dormé watched her mistress launch into the opening speech she had spent the better part of their journey preparing.

Padmé addressed the Chief Zarrarocca directly, keeping the statements in her speech blunt but polite, brief but factual.

"Intelligence has received reports that three meetings have been observed to have taken place between Count Dooku of Serenno and two high ranking officers in your cabinet. There is strong evidence that you are seeking Separatist aid over the Trandoshan crisis."

There was an immediate outcry. Chief Zarrarocca leapt up from his seat and roared a question in his native tongue to Senator Yarua who merely shook his head in negation. Padmé fell silent as she watched them passively.

The World Chieftain spoke to her first: These accusations are serious. I am assuming that they are made with the evidence to back them up.

"By all means, Your Excellency, I have it enclosed here," Padmé removed a datapad from her filofax and placed it on the desk. Both the General and the Chieftain reached for it. She placed a hand on it. "But first, am I to understand that you are unaware of these correspondences?"

First, you show us your evidence and we can decide if you have the right to an answer! snarled Zarrarocca.

There was a split second of fear when Dormé thought her mistress would hesitate. That would have been disastrous. The Wookiees were a proud, fierce race and they despised nothing as much as they did indecision and fear.

Her fears were unwarranted. With a flick of her wrist and a face filled with confident composure, Padmé tossed the pad to Zarrarocca.

He and his cabinet, with the exception of Rwallra and Senator Yarua clustered round it. Dormé already knew what it contained: holo-vids and transcripted holo-net conversations. Evidence good enough to stand up in the Supreme courts. All courtesy of Naboo and Alderaan Intelligence.

Dormé studied her mistress. Her face was as calm as ever but Dormé thought she had seen the subtle play of surprise in Padmé's eyes.

The Chieftain was searching down the datapad for the particular information. Another Wookiee leaned in beside him and was gesticulating with his paws. Padmé used the opportunity to speak directly to Senator Yarua.

"Senator, am I to understand that the information we discussed a week ago concerning this matter was not relayed to the Chieftain?"

Yarua lifted his paws beseechingly. The expression on his hairy face was indecipherable.

This is a highly sensitive matter, as you can see. The last thing I wanted to do was to return to my home and throw unfounded accusations... especially considering the stressful climate we already are in. He said smoothly. A seasoned intergalactic representative, Yarua spoke Basic almost flawlessly. According to Wookiee culture, that meant that he had a speech impediment.

The World Chieftain let out a roar. The Republic has gone too far, now! This information could only be obtained by breaching our highest level of security.

"Your Excellency," Padmé retorted with the correct amount of polite outrage, "is that an admittance? Were you aware of these meetings?"

These are my officers, Senator, growled Zarrarocca. Wookiees appointed by me under the recommendation of highly placed government officials. Of course I was aware about these meetings!

He confessed this with the complete arrogance of someone who knew he held all the cards. Senator Yarua's head jerked violently in his Chieftain's direction but he stayed silent. Padmé kept her composure but barely. Dormé saw that flinch, even if no one else had; she knew the reason for it, too. Padmé had considered the possibility of the World Chieftain being aware of those meetings; he had strong and personal reasons for enacting vengeance on the Trandosha. But she felt that his longstanding loyalty to the Republic made him unlikely to ally with the Separatists for whatever reason. It was more likely that a lesser member of the ruling council was the Separatist's contact on Kashyyyk. Now, with Zarrarocca's complicity confirmed, a resolution in favor of the Republic would be more difficult to attain.

And the presence of a Republic senator on Kashyyyk would be more dangerous.

Dormé fisted her palms to prevent them from shaking. Beside her, Dané exhaled sharply and Dormé threw the younger girl a cautioning glance. In this situation, any show of weakness may prove fatal. Besides it was not done for a handmaiden to show emotion in public. Dané blushed slightly and tried to form her features back into serene composure.

"When we saw this, we were convinced that these meetings were taking place with the full approval of your office and that in fact, the government of Kashyyyk was contemplating secession from the Republic," Padmé said finally. "The question I need an answer to is why."

Dormé blanched, unable to restrain herself from staring at her mistress in shock. Did she really need to ask? It was public knowledge that two of the 215 Wookiees killed near Trandosha were sons of Zarrarocca.

Or was this a ploy of some sort? To shame the Wookiees or back them into a corner?

If it was, it did not seem to be working. The Chieftain leaned back and tapped his claws (Dormé started when she realized that the Wookiee had unsheathed them unnoticed) against the table. Senator Yarua was studying his console.

"You were aware of this, Senator Yarua," Padmé said suddenly.

All heads swiveled to look at Yarua.

He looked up with some mild puzzlement. Aware of what?

"About your government's involvement with the Separatists. You told me on Coruscant that you had strong fears about your people's attitude towards the Trandoshan crisis, but even as you insisted your Chief and rulers were still loyal to the Republic, you knew already that they were having talks with Dooku."

Yarua thought you could persuade us with your colorful speeches and empty promises, one of the Wookiees, an army general retorted. The Republic has done nothing for Kashyyyk since we reported this incident. They sent a Jedi and took him back before he could even achieve anything.

"We are in the middle of a war, General Raldorin!" Padmé shouted. "Surely, you can understand that resources are stretched thin as they are."

And why are they fighting? roared the Chieftain. Because the Republic wants to hold onto worlds that she has never protected!

"Joining the Trade Federation and the Commerce Guild would achieve nothing! You would only be exchanging one level of injustice for another!"

So you admit that an injustice has been done? one Wookiee snarled.

Padmé turned exasperated eyes at each of them in turn. "Of course, I do! But I can assure you, Honorables, that joining with the Separatists is no guarantee that it would ever be corrected. The Commerce Guild is a business organization, not a charity service. Whatever protection Count Dooku promised you in exchange for you seceding, you will pay back with interest." Her eyes finally rested on Zarrarocca and she seemed to speak directly to him. "Blood interest."

The room erupted into angry roars and barks. Most of it seemed to be directed to Yarua who fended them off with a placid, almost unnaturally serene series of growls. They had reverted entirely into native dialects, speaking too fast for any translator to interpret. However, if their tone and gesticulation was any indication, they seemed to be blaming Yarua for arranging the audience in the first place.

At a point in time, one Wookiee unsheathed his claws with a sharp slicing noise and raised it at Yarua. As one, Dormé, Dané and Typho took three large strides to Padmé's side.

_Silence!_

With a loud roar that shook the branch walls of the room, Zarrarocca's fists smashed into the oval table. It shattered cleanly down the centre. Everyone moved back just in time to avoid it smashing on their feet.

There was absolute silence.

The Chieftain turned to Padmé and spoke to her in a voice that was almost a gentle purr. Senator Amidala, on behalf of my people, allow me to express our gratitude for your coming. However, it remains obvious to us all that your presence here is neither needed nor welcome. Consequently, you will be escorted back to your ship and you would be expected to return to Coruscant immediately.

There was a tiny twitch working in Padmé's jaw. She was not inclined to quit without a fight.

"You have not given me an opportunity to make my case known, Chief," she said loudly.

I have given you every-

"Not according to the Wookiee laws of obligation to petitioning strangers. A stranger is allowed to have an appeal if he feels he has been heard wrongly."

There was a grumble amongst the Wookiees present. It was obvious that none of them had expected the foreign senator to quote their own law against them. Even Yarua looked surprised.

Zarrarocca recovered quickly. You are not on trial here, Senator.

"As a legislator, I represent the Republic. And clearly, on Kashyyyk the _Republic_ is on trial."

Another silence followed this. Dormé heart almost burst with pride in her mistress and she felt a smile tugging at the edge of her mouth. She forced it down and stared at Dané until the other handmaiden did the same.

An appeal must be heard within a maximum of 48 Kashyyyk hours, Yarua said.

A Wookiee barked at him: Silence! The Chieftain has not decided if there will be an appeal!

He dares defy the Laws? Yarua retorted. Sharp teeth pressed against his lower jaw. He looked like if he was smirking.

Zarrarocca ignored him and beckoned to Rwallra who had been silent throughout most of the proceedings. The Chieftain and his deputy whispered to each other for long moments while the others waited.

Finally, Zarrarocca raised his head and gave his decision.

We honor our Laws. You may remain on-world and rest in your ship. Exactly 48 hours from now, we will send escorts to you.

Padmé bowed deeply. Her handmaidens followed. A half-second later, so did Captain Typho.

"Thank you, your Honor."

Your gratitude is misplaced. Nothing can happen between now and then that will make us change our minds.

Padmé climbed through the trap door with her head held high. Before she disappeared, she threw one final baleful glare at Senator Yarua of Kashyyyk.

The Wookiees snarled as she left.

* * *

"I need your help, Bail." 

The small holo-image flickered with the power connection. Still the concern on Bail Organa's face was unmistakable. "Where are you, Padmé? You have been away from Naboo for several days now."

"How did you know I was gone?" she asked, surprised.

"Chancellor Palpatine informed me."

In her private office on board the ship, Amidala tensed with shock. Her departure from Naboo had been conducted with the utmost secrecy. How could the news have reached Coruscant so quickly?

She had exactly 10 hours to compose an appropriate appeal to the Council of Wookiee Chiefs. Her handmaidens had been scouring the tomes and Holonet for information but nothing was forthcoming. The idea of facing Chieftain Zarrarocca and his lot with the same impassioned speech she had already used did not sit well with her.

"Where are you, Padmé?" Bail asked again.

"Kashyyyk."

"_Kashyyyk!"_

"Bail…"

"You're taking risks again, Padmé. Geonosis before, now Kashyyyk…"

_Well, _someone _must take them! _"Listen to me, Bail," she said sharply, "I don't have much time. I need all the information Alderaani Intelligence discovered on Chieftain Zarrarocca."

He paused. All his features drew into a frown. "I thought you said you were not going to use it. That it might backfire on you and alienate the Wookiees further."

"I wasn't. And I won't unless I absolutely have no choice."

The holo flickered again and she almost thought she had lost the connection. Then she saw the red data light blink. A few moments later, she was holding the data crystal containing the information from Bail in her hand.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Padmé." He was still frowning as his image flickered and died.

_Considering the sacrifices I've made to be _free _to do this, I had better_, Padmé Amidala thought bitterly.

"I hope so, too."

* * *

Nine hours later, the message came from Deputy Chieftain Rwallra. The Wookiee escorts awaited the Senator and her delegation outside the ship. The Naboo craft had been berthed on the landing platform since their arrived; their resilient force field shield was their only protection against the aggressive wild life of Kashyyyk. 

"That's an hour early," Padmé said at once when the message reached her.

"You will start at the appointed time but you must be there before then," Dormé relayed back to her.

It really made no difference. Padmé had been rehearsing for the past three hours and they were only marking time now. After she gave the order to lift the shield, Dormé and Dané started preparing for the unorthodox appeal.

"Make sure there's a back-up of all the senator's files on Artoo," Dormé told Dané.

"Already done," Dané replied promptly.

Dormé was pleased. She had personally recruited the new handmaiden and Dané's performance was a direct reflection on her competence. As common in their elite profession, the two women had been acquainted with each other long ago. Dormé remembered Dané as a promising junior during her own training years. So far, she had not marred that impression. Though still far from the standards of Cordé and Vespé, her general proficiency was gratifying.

The two handmaidens dressed their mistress now, placing the thick velvet cloak over her shoulders. It was so heavy that they would need to hold up the edges for Padmé to walk properly. Beneath it she wore a matching uni-suit with the lines and fluidity of a soldier's uniform, similar to what the handmaidens also wore under their own simpler cloaks. They were taking no chances: the women of Naboo were dressed for the occasion.

Captain Typho stepped to unlock the door. It fell open under his hand. Literally. The thick durasteel caved in and landed inches away from his boots with a loud thud.

There was no reaction time. Battle-honed instinct took over at once. "Handmaidens!" he shouted, "secure the Senator –"

A tall Wookiee with black, longish fur suddenly filled the doorway. Captain Typho's blaster was already covering him.

"No!" Padmé shouted. "Don't kill him!"

"What?" He gasped as his finger squeezed the trigger. Typho just managed to jerk his hand so that he missed his shot. The laser hit the edge of the door and debris fell beneath it.

The sheer luck that the first person the Wookiee had encountered was an armed human was an advantage – one they had just lost.

One second after Typho's missed shot, the Wookiee grabbed him, lifting him off his feet. In a movement that was too fast to understand, Typho lay in a crumpled heap on the floor.

Dané was pushing Padmé behind her. Dormé had slipped out the blaster she kept in her sleeve. It was already set to stun and for a moment she regretted the minimal setting. She would not have let Padmé's cry distract her.

She barely had time to note that the Wookiees's shoulders were clean shaven before her shot hit him cleanly in the chest. He roared and kept coming. A stun shot for a human did not have the same effect on a Wookiee. Dormé shot again, then again, all the while backing into the room with Padmé behind her and Dané at her side. The other girl had brought out her weapon and was firing as well.

The Wookiee roared with every shot, flying at them even as the energy pulse from the last bolt penetrated his thick hide. He fell on them with a thump and was completely still.

Padmé ran to pull out her handmaidens. "Are you alright, Dormé?"

"I'm fine, my lady." She said, coming out from underneath pounds of large Wookiee. "But you might not be. He is Kalmec." She pointed at his shoulders.

"I noticed."

"We must secure you at once."

"They got in with Rwallra, didn't they? How many of them are on board? " asked Dané, getting to her feet.

"No idea. Let's just concentrate on getting the Senator to somewhere safe." Padmé was already removing the unwieldy cloak. Dormé took her by the arm and started running towards the second exit door.

"Somewhere safer than this ship?" Dané said from behind them.

Dormé turned around to answer and screamed. She could not help it. Standing behind Dané, with the heavy tome of Kashyyyk raised high in the air, was the Wookiee they had just stunned.

The book came down on Dané's head before she could move. She crumpled like sand.

"My lady, run!" shouted Dormé, pushing Padmé through the door.

Then she saw the tome flying at her and tried to dive out of the way. Her foot tangled in Padmé's cloak and she landed hard on the metal floor. Her blaster flew out of her hand. She lay on her side, stunned. The last thing she remembered was the Wookiee suddenly looming over her, her blaster in his paw.

* * *


	4. The Kamino Defence

**CHAPTER III**

**The Kamino Defence**

From the bridge of the Mon Calamari ship, a pair of cold black eyes watched the two Jedi fighters approach.

With her orange flight suit and pale skin Aurra Sing should have looked out of place among so many white uniformed amphibians. She did not. Rather, she managed to make the crew look uncomfortable on the bridge of their own ship. If she felt the surreptitious glances of a dozen pairs of large golden eyes, she gave no sign of it. Arms crossed, she paced with indolent grace in front of the wide window, pausing only to listen when a deck officer announced an incoming holocommunication for Commander Merai. Although her interest was piqued she didn't turn from the view port. Anakin Skywalker's actions as he flew outside the ship were far too compelling and unpredictable to look away.

She noted with pleasure that her information had been correct. Skywalker's fighter was a distinctive bright blue and white instead of the usual Jedi maroon and silver. Other modifications were obvious and it occurred to her that such a ship would sell for a hefty price on the black market. Not for the first time Sing made the observation that Skywalker was no ordinary Jedi in much the same way that she was no ordinary mercenary. That made them an excellent match and the idea of this hunt suddenly became even more exhilarating.

She looked forward to adding Skywalker's lightsaber to her growing collection.

Skywalker and his companion were skimming their fighters over the surface of the wedge shaped Calamari vessel. Gun turrets fired on them continuously, but never found their target. Both pilots were using the Force to guide them through the laser towers.

Aurra was one to recognize the Force when she saw it. Long ago, she'd learned to manipulate it to her will. That had been before the Jedi betrayed her, leaving her for dead in the hands of ruthless kidnappers. As she stared down at Anakin Skywalker's fighter she pledged that he would know the same disillusionment before she carried out Tyranus's order.

A sudden blast from a tall tower managed to pinpoint the maroon starfighter. It exploded in a burst of amber light and electrical sparks. Satisfaction at the thought of one less Jedi in the galaxy caused Aurra's lips to twist upward in a cruel semblance of a smile. Skywalker's eventual end would not be as ignominious.

Behind her Merai was replying to the com.

"Master Windu! I hardly expected to find you here on Kamino!" The Mon Cal commander's voice was rough, as if he were unused to speaking in dry, guttural Basic.

"The same could be said for you, Commander Merai." Aurra easily recognized Mace Windu's calm baritone but she still did not turn from the view port. She was more curious to see what her young target would do now that he'd been left on his own. She felt a stab of disappointment as his ship was arced up and away, heading not back to Kamino, but out towards the blackness of space.

Merai was laughing now, as if amused by the Jedi Master's comment that the Mon Calamari had not been expected. "Surely such a wise Jedi as yourself does not find this surprising? The Mon Calamari have been outspoken against Palpatine for a very long time."

"Palpatine is _not_ the Republic." Windu spoke patiently; almost as one would explain to a child.

"Don't condescend. You know as well as I do that when he speaks he does so for the Republic entire. My people are simply refusing to abide his hypocritical doctrines any longer."

Skywalker did, indeed, appear to be fleeing the battle – something Sing could not allow. She was just about to head toward her own ship when his fighter suddenly reversed course and turned back toward them.

"But war, Marai?" Master Windu was saying behind her. "The Mon Calamari are a peaceful race. You have no tactical knowledge, no experienced war generals, no armies."

"All that is changing, as you can see." Merai's official tone took on a hint of amusement. "I find it ironic that you give lectures on tactics and strategy when you seek to defend an aquatic planet without water craft."

Aurra did give a small laugh at this. For all his inexperience in combat, Merai had a shrewd eye. The Jedi _had_ been rather shortsighted in this instance, not that they could be blamed. The information they'd been fed had been deliberately misleading.

She noted Skywalker's fighter was once again evading fire from large turret guns, and was back to skimming the surface of the huge Mon Cal ship. If she didn't know better, she'd think he was searching for something.

Behind her Master Windu's efforts to reason with Merai were having no effect. The amphibian was staunch in his alliance to the Separatists.

Now was as good a chance as any to switch from observing her prey to something hands-on. It was time to get some sense of how Skywalker performed, how he reacted in a dogfight. The slow steady approach was Sing's favorite method of cornering. It was necessary to determine what kind of confrontation would be the most satisfying. To Aurra, the assassination of a Jedi was a craft and not something to be engaged in without adequate preparation. Skywalker's reputation marked him as both an incredibly gifted pilot and a skilled swordsman. It was unfortunate that at this moment she could only test the former. Long white fingers casually rubbed the Blaster pistol at her thigh. Ah well. In her world one didn't argue with fate.

She turned and strode purposefully off the bridge.

* * *

It took Anakin no time at all to locate the primary launch bay but the closed bay doors presented a more complicated obstacle. He was forced to make several passes, dodging active laser turrets while waiting for more fighters to launch. Once the huge metal doors slid open it was a challenge to enter while dodging the outgoing squadron of Mon Calamari ships.

He had almost made it when suddenly a dark shape appeared in his flight path. His modified _Aethersprite_ shuddered as it clipped the exiting ship. He barely had a chance to note that it wasn't Mon Calamari as both crafts glanced off each other.

Anakin's fighter spun. The ordinary Jedi fighters might have taken the collision hard but his was custom-built. It continued its linear trajectory before coming to a violent halt against the wall at the back of the bay.

The mysterious ship twisted crazily as it spiraled out into space.

Once everything stopped moving he swore under his breath. Hardly the landing he'd been hoping for. His ship's control panels were dark and the hydraulic canopy remained tightly closed. Evidently his power system had taken damage in the crash.

He could see his R-4 droid resting in the wing compartment, but the little droid appeared as silent and still as his ship. Tugging the manual release lever he unbuckled his restraints and pushed the cockpit window up. As he jumped to the slanted surface of the wing he heard the sound of booted feet. Of course, every officer on deck would be headed this way. Igniting his lightsaber, he took a deep breath and settled into a defensive stance.

All at once he found himself the target of a hail of blaster fire. He deflected the shots neatly with his lightsaber, reflecting them back toward his attackers. Within seconds he'd managed to eliminate the immediate threat of nearly a dozen Mon Calamari soldiers.

He scanned the bay for possibilities now that creative use of his fighter's two proton torpedoes was no longer an option. Mon Cal security would rally quickly, so finding a way out of the bay became imperative. A catwalk a short distance above his head presented an interesting opportunity. It seemed to lead to the far side of the bay, where huge transparisteel windows showed an enclosed control room. Clipping his lightsaber to his belt, he used the Force to easily propel himself upward. He landed neatly and took of running down the catwalk.

* * *

In the conference room on Kamino the tense silence was shattered by a transmission from Aayla Secura.

"Yes Commander?" Mace Windu answered the comlink signal, his dark eyes trying to pick her fighter out of those visible on the hologrid.

"Master, an update on the battle." The Twi'lek's voice echoed through the room. "Though we're maintaining equilibrium with the droid fighters, we just can't seem to gain a significant advantage. We've been unable to prevent the majority of Mon Calamari fighters from entering the ocean. They refuse to engage us and we can't follow them."

"I know you've done your best, Master Secura. We're going to have to rely on our ground troops and Kamino's own armament to do what they can against the submersibles. Do what you can to hold things together up there."

"Will do. Just wanted you to know where were at this point." There was deliberate pause before she continued, "Sir, we've lost Master Rey."

"I know." Master Windu replied sadly, "I felt him go." Taneen Rey had been one of his best friends during their shared youth at the temple.

"Padawan Skywalker also seems to have disappeared."

"What?" Mace asked, not bothering to mask his incredulity.

"Knight Arkam claims he saw Anakin fly his ship into the Mon Cal launch bay. Since then no one has been able to find him on radar or raise him on the comm."

"Noted." The Jedi Master's voice was terse, clipped. "Thank you for your update, Commander. May the Force be with you."

Aayla's transmission ended and before Mace could contemplate Skywalker's actions, another transmission followed immediately.

"Master Windu? Kenobi here."

Mace sighed inaudibly. "Go ahead, Commander Kenobi."

"Sir, we're doing our best to keep the Separatist landing forces confined to their main landing sites, but the added element of the Mon Cal fighters attacking the torpedo towers has left us more than a little short-handed down here."

"I understand." Mace replied, at a loss for suggestions.

"Master Jedi." It was Lama Su, speaking up from across the table for the first time in hours. "I can provide a few reinforcements in the form of some of our younger clones. They aren't fully trained, but they are quite capable, even at such a formative stage. They could be dispatched to shore up the interior defenses."

"Please." Windu accepted the offer gratefully then spoke again to Kenobi. "We'll be sending reinforcements your way."

"Thank you, Master." Kenobi did indeed sound grateful. "Any help is appreciated."

* * *

Making his way across the catwalk to the control room proved easy. By the time Anakin dropped to the ground close near the door, numerous Calamari security had fallen, some to their own reflected blaster fire, others to his lightsaber. He managed to find a key card on the body of one of the higher ranking officers and approached the control room. The handful of officers inside proved no obstacle either.

Though the Mon Calamari computer interfaces were a bit strange at first, they used universal symbols to such an extent that Anakin managed to pull up a schematic of the ship. The power generators appeared to be housed well within the heart of the vessel. Finding his way there to explode them didn't look likely.

He glanced at the wall monitors tracking the battle outside. The nearby Federation ship sparked a thought. If he could find a way to turn the Mon Cal vessel and bring it up to speed it would be easy to engineer a collision between the two starships. The idea of taking out two command ships instead of just one was exhilarating. The battle, for all intents and purposes, would be over at that point. The remaining droid fighters could be cleaned up by the Kaminoans and the Jedi could land and help eliminate invading ground troops.

To implement such a plan he'd need control of this ship. After checking the path on the schematic and reigniting his lightsaber, Anakin took off at a run towards the main bridge.

* * *

"Skywalker!" Aurra Sing cursed as she cut all non-essential power on board her fighter. She'd only had a moment to glimpse the ship that had collided with her own, but the bright blue and white of Anakin's fighter had been instantly recognizable. What was he doing, trying to land on a command ship?

Managing to stabilize her own craft had been no easy task, and so far she'd had no luck getting all systems back on-line at the same time. She could power the weaponry, the sub-light engines or the communications array. The engines seemed the most practical choice. The control mechanisms on the damaged wing were inoperable as well. Left turns and difficult maneuvers were out of the question.

As luck would have it, the uncontrolled spin had sent her quite a ways away from the main action. She contemplated limping her ship back to the Mon Cal flagship, but the fact that her craft was unmarked and unidentifiable made re-entering the fray a risky proposition. She could just as easily be targeted as ignored by either side.

Hoping for a reprieve, she elected to steer clear of the main battle until she could find a way to restore all systems on her defenseless ship. She felt no urge to rush. Anakin Skywalker was aboard that command vessel and most likely wasn't going anywhere.

* * *

Anakin found his way to the bridge, taking out the outer security almost as easily as he'd managed the officers at the launch control tower. He was astounded by the utter lack of skill the Mon Calamari displayed when targeting their blaster weapons, before it occurred to him that they were a peaceful race, unused to weaponry and conflict.

_Fools!_ He thought with disdain. Why had they gotten involved in this conflict? Couldn't they have just stayed on their homeworld, raising their families? Not for the first time he found himself considering the idiocy of the whole mess. Life could have been so different if only Padmé hadn't rejected him.

Though he did his best for the war effort and the Jedi, Anakin could never shake the feeling that he had just been going through the motions. As if he was only half alive, doing his duty for a cause he only half understood.

He paused, standing at the secure doorway to the flight deck. Once he entered the bridge there would be no turning back. The thought struck him that once he set his plan in motion, once he put the ship on a collision course, there might not be time to escape.

The wave of relief he felt at that thought took him off-guard. In a flash it occurred to him that he really didn't care. He'd seen enough death to know that it was the ones left behind who continued to suffer. Not getting away meant he wouldn't lose any more friends and this miserable battle, this war, this _life_ would thankfully be over.

He stood there, immobile, frozen by the knowledge that he would be content to die.

Then a surge of pure terror came on the coattails of that knowledge and it spurred him to action. He had to finish this mission and stop contemplating an end he hadn't earned. Before he thought any further, he _had_ to take down this ship.

Using the Calamari key card, he stood clear and opened the door in front of him. For once there was no flood of blaster fire to greet him. Only silence.

He held his lightsaber aloft and turned into the doorway. The bridge wasn't deserted, but no security seemed in evidence; only a small complement of six seated officers, each manning their controls. A seventh Calamari, a Commander by his insignia, stood in the center of the room. He was tall for his species, salmon colored, with wide amber eyes that betrayed none of the fear Anakin could sense radiating from him.

As Anakin entered the room the Calamari Commander fixed him with a penetrating stare. "How quickly you Jedi adjust to killing indiscriminately." There was disgust in his watery voice.

"This is a war." Anakin replied gruffly. Though he offered the words as explanation, he was shocked to realize that the Commander had a point. This time last year he would have been horrified at the part he had played, would still play, in today's devastating loss of life.

"If you go now I'll let you all live." Where had that offer come from? After all the Calamari he'd already killed, such an offer to these seven seemed pointless. Still, he couldn't make himself stop talking. "You can still make it to the launch bay and find a way off this ship."

"Mercy?" There was scorn in the amphibian's tone. "After all the lives you've taken since you came aboard?"

"I'm not offering you an explanation!" Anakin shouted, suddenly angry. Why were they arguing with him at a time like this, when he had just offered them a chance to live? His next words held no compassion, only scorn. "I offered you a chance to leave." He muttered coldly, "Take it or don't. It makes no difference to me." Silently he prayed they would take the offer. For whatever reason, it suddenly _did_ matter to him.

"Go!" The Commander gave the order. He seemed to know that if this armed Jedi before him was so inclined his crew would all die.

Five of the Calamari instantly headed for the door. The sixth hesitated.

"Commander Merai – " he began.

"That was an order Lieutenant!" Merai spun on his own officer, pointing toward the door. The officer appeared to waver for a moment, then did as he was told.

Merai turned back to Anakin. His salmon colored skin was flushed dark with anger. "I'm going as well, but if I live I'll make sure you pay for every life you've taken today."

"I'll keep that in mind." Anakin nodded, swallowing tightly. He hoped the commander couldn't see the relief on his face. The bridge officers had been unarmed. He'd been half sick with dread at the idea of slaughtering them.

The instant they were gone he bent over the control panels. As before, the universal symbol coding made his task easy. Effortlessly he maneuvered the huge ship around to face the Trade Federation vessel. With quick movements he locked in the course and set the velocity to maximum acceleration.

He straightened to turn and look out the view port, watching the Federation ship as it sat still in space. It would be a matter of minutes. Once they realized the intent of the Mon Cal ship there wouldn't be time for them to kick in sublight engines and gather enough speed to maneuver out of the collision zone.

Perversely Anakin wanted to laugh at how easy it had been. Then the same dread he'd felt moments ago came flooding back. No doubt there were still Mon Calamari officers on board who would not escape. He really should get back to the launch bay.

He couldn't seem to make his feet move in that direction.

The Federation ship moved closer.

Anakin closed his eyes.

Instead of darkness he saw Padmé's face as it had been when they had last parted. Silent tears cut silver tracks down her pale cheeks while the pain in her eyes drove knives into his heart.

His eyes flew open. He couldn't breathe. The thought of dying with her tear-washed face in his mind's eye was too much agony to bear.

He turned and ran from the bridge as if chased by demons from all of Corellia's hells.

* * *

On Kamino an air of hopelessness was pervasive. The battle was being lost. The underwater missile towers had been disabled by submersible Mon Calamari fighters, who were now focusing their energies on the city's main power generators. The Jedi were doing their best to concentrate firepower on the gunships but they anticipated another wave of droid fighters at any moment. The shields protecting the landing platforms had nearly been eliminated and so many troop transports had already managed to land that the facility was being flooded with droid soldiers and droidekas. Kenobi and his troops had pushed the invaders back countless times only to find more in their wake. The assault seemed endless.

Master Windu stood unexpectedly. "It's time."

Lama Su nodded, sliding his own chair back from the holotable. "I'll send the evacuation alert."

"And I will join my comrades." The Jedi Master gave a final glance at the battle before pulling his lightsaber from his belt and turning to leave.

"Master Jedi!" The prime minister called him back. "Look!"

Master Windu turned, his eyes scanning the holo images. All at once he saw the source of the Kaminoan's excitement.

The Mon Calamari ship had turned and seemed to be on-course for the Federation vessel. Windu's dark eyes widened and he dropped back into his seat.

For the first time in hours a sense of excitement flooded the chamber. The two leaders watched as the Mon Cal flagship encroached on the Federation ship's space. It seemed intent on collision. Such a thing wasn't likely. Was it?

As if the Federation ship realized the danger, it had slowly begun to pull away. It was clear from this vantage point that their evasive maneuver would avail them nothing. There was no way for them to escape as the Mon Cal flagship gained speed, rapidly closing the gap.

In stunned silence the Jedi Council leader and the Kaminoan Prime Minister watched as the ship-images met in a bright, soundless explosion. The oxygen rich atmosphere in the Mon Calamari vessel ignited in a flash of flame as its streamlined bulk cut a neat swathe through the middle of the droid command ship. The impacted vessel disintegrated under the impact; electric energy traced the hull as the front half was sheared from the tail section. Forward momentum carried the remains of the Mon Cal ship through the wreckage; slowly it tracked its way into space, small explosions occurring on every level as hot energy met volatile gas.

The crumbling sections of the Federation ship succumbed to the pull of the planet's gravity and slowly began to fall towards the Kaminoan ocean.

Mace Windu stared incredulously. If he hadn't felt the deaths of the Mon Calamari in the Force, he wouldn't have believed his eyes.

Beside him, Lama Su made a jubilant sound that might have been a Kaminoan laugh. He stood quickly. "This is wonderful!" His willowy body was trembling with excitement. "I'll need to reassign our troops. Please, excuse me." He moved gracefully out the door.

The Jedi Master watched what remained of the battle. The Federation ship hadn't had time to send out another wave of fighters and the Jedi _Aethersprites_ were zipping towards the remaining gunships. Mace watched as groups of fighters focused on the larger, more powerful crafts. One by one, each was eliminated.

He realized his comlink was beeping insistently but had no idea how long he'd been ignoring it.

He pressed the response button.

"Yes?"

"Master Windu," It was Secura, pleasure evident in her voice, "we've got them on the run!"

"Indeed." He replied, still a little dazed by the quick turn of events.

"Wasn't that amazing!" She didn't wait for a response. "The rumor going around is that Skywalker was behind that maneuver."

"That wouldn't surprise me. He has a knack for thinking outside the box." Mace felt himself coming out of the haze. Of course it would have been Anakin. He'd flown into the Mon Calamari ship.

"What are your orders, sir?" Aayla asked, "We've almost got these gunships cleaned up."

Finally, a question he could answer without much thought. "Land your fighters and report to Master Kenobi. He'll tell you where ground needs reinforcement."

"I'll get the information passed along! Secura out."

Master Windu stood again. This battle was won and he had a young Jedi to find. He reached out in the Force, trying to find Anakin's bright signature. It was there all right, but not as strong as it should be. He looked back at the hologrid but saw nothing of the padawan's distinctive fighter. Skywalker was out there, he could feel it. But where? He delved into the Force again.

In a flash of insight he felt drawn to the ocean.

Mace Windu leaned towards the com-link panel, entering a code before remembering that Taneen Rey was dead. He entered a different code, pushing the button to transmit.

"Kenobi here."

"Commander, I need two Jedi dispatched immediately in submersible reconnaissance vehicles to search for your padawan."

"Anakin!" Kenobi was instantly concerned.

"I can explain more later, but I believe he might have been forced to land somewhere in the ocean and he may be in trouble. Rally the Kaminoan's to help search."

"I'll go myself." Kenobi's replied briskly, "Things are well in hand with the droid troops."

"Very well. Report to me immediately when you find him." He closed the channel.

When, not if. In Mace Windu's mind no other outcome was acceptable.

He spun quickly and left the room to help search.

* * *

Out in space a lone craft was hovering far beyond the reach of the battle.

Aurra Sing hadn't planned to kill Skywalker today, but that didn't lessen her annoyance at the loss of the opportunity to find out more about him. The unbelievable sight of two command ships colliding was still fresh in her mind. It wasn't that she was particularly upset at the Federation's resounding defeat. Aside from rejoicing at the death of every Jedi, she didn't care who won or lost this war.

All she knew for certain was that Skywalker had managed to disable her ship without even trying, and she'd bet her last credit that he was responsible for the quick end to the conflict. If he hadn't killed himself in the process she would be forced to admit that she was very impressed. Indeed, he was no ordinary Jedi opponent.

All that remained now was to confirm beyond doubt that he'd made it out of the Mon Calamari ship before it burst into flames. That would be easy enough, once the dust settled.

For now, she would wait. Her sublight engines and limited steering would be sufficient to take her to the Rothana system, Kamino's closest neighbor. An industrial world, the Rothanans had contracted with the cloners to build combat vehicles and machinery for the Army of the Republic. It would be easy to slip in there, find a place to repair her ship and listen to the transmission from Kamino on less secure channels.

Yes, she'd rest a bit and find out about Skywalker before reporting back to Tyranus. She laid in a course for Rothana.

* * *

Whether the Jedi found Anakin or he found them was a matter open to debate and of little importance. All that mattered to Obi-Wan was that his padawan had been found.

The Mon Calamari submersible fighter Anakin had commandeered was charred from the explosion. The high temperatures had also melted much of the wiring necessary for the ship to function. When they pulled Anakin from inside the craft, it was frightening to note that the little vessel was half-filled with water. Anakin was barely conscious and, as luck would have it, upright in the cockpit.

Obi-Wan himself had pulled his apprentice from the Calamari ship. He'd seen to it that the boy was wrapped in blankets and immediately taken to a Kaminoan medical bay. Which brought them to this point – with the Master sitting at the bedside of his unconscious padawan. He pushed Anakin's damp curls back from his forehead in an uncharacteristically gentle gesture before sitting back in the chair beside the examining table. The Kaminoan medic said Anakin appeared to be fine. Most likely he was exhausted from the stresses of space combat, the intense heat of the explosion and the rough ride to the surface.

Obi-Wan was glad to hear it, because when his padawan woke up, he would probably kill him. What had Anakin been thinking, boarding an enemy flagship by himself? In Obi-Wan's estimation, that was less like bravery and more like suicide.

Anakin sighed deeply, his eyelids fluttering open. Obi-Wan watched him look around the room, waiting for him to take stock of his surroundings. Gradually the dazed look faded and was replaced by an inscrutable expression.

He shifted in his chair so that Anakin would notice him. Shuttered blue eyes turned his way.

"Master?" There was a world of inquiry in that one raspy word.

"You're on Kamino, in a med bay. We recovered you – your ship – from the water about six hours ago."

"The battle?" Obi-Wan stood and handed him a small cup of water, helping him sit up so he could drink.

"We won." His replied shortly.

Anakin summoned the strength to flash him an annoyed look and Obi-Wan felt encouraged. If his padawan was aware enough to feel put-upon by brief answers, then he was probably on the road to recovery. He took pity on his apprentice's endless need for information.

"The Calamari vessel collided with the Federation ship. Both were destroyed. Once that happened, everything was over fairly quickly. The fighters cleaned up the remaining gunboats then landed and came to help us defend the facility."

Anakin seemed content with that simplified summary for the moment. He leaned back and closed his eyes.

"Anakin, I have to notify Master Windu that you're awake."

His padawan didn't make a sound, but his chest rose and fell in another deep sigh.

"Apparently they are all thrilled with your heroism." Obi-Wan tried to temper the annoyance in his voice, but his effort failed dismally.

"Master," Anakin's voice had gained strength and the hoarseness was fading. He opened his eyes and stared intently at Obi-Wan. "What I did wasn't heroic."

"Well, I don't think the Council shares your view." The constriction in Obi-Wan's chest eased somewhat as he realized that Anakin was saying so much death, so much destruction, weren't worthy of reward. Still, there was no doubt his ingenuity and courage had saved the cloning facility, not to mention Jedi lives. Even if it had almost cost him his own.

"Anakin, what were you thinking?" He knew he sounded harsh, but he couldn't help it. "Were you trying to get yourself killed?"

Anakin was looking straight at him, but Obi-Wan couldn't shake the feeling he wasn't seeing him at all. Then something flickered in those blue eyes and they dropped guiltily to the blanket. Obi-Wan felt a chill somewhere in the pit of his stomach.

"Surely that isn't what you wanted?" Obi-Wan's voice was so harsh, it hurt _him_. But not half as badly as that thing he had glimpsed in his padawan's eyes.

"No, Master." The denial was whispered, lacking conviction. Anakin's fingers curled into the bedding. "Please, go tell Master Windu that I'm awake."

Obi-Wan backed away from the sick bed. It was true that the Jedi didn't fear death, but even more they valued life. Anakin's demeanor and his actions spoke clearly that he did not value his own life. Obi-Wan prayed that wasn't true because the thought scared him more than he could say.

Anakin had closed his eyes once more, effectively ending their discussion.

Obi-Wan turned and left the room.

* * *


	5. The Wookiee Conspiracy

**CHAPTER IV**

**The Wookiee Conspiracy**

_It must have been somewhere very similar to Naboo. High mountains with their peaks buried in the clouds surrounded them. They stood on one, a steep crag that tapered to a sharp end not far from her. A stiff wind blew, lifting her hair from her face like a thing alive. Cold mountain air seemed to pierce through her skin, chilling her blood into a cool trickle of ice._

_He stood at the edge of the cliff, at the very edge: the soles of his boots were standing on air. His right hand was stretched towards her. _

_"Help me!"_

_She watched him coldly, dispassionately._

_"Padmé, please!"_

_She started walking towards him. A heavy gust blew past, swaying him badly and pushing her to her knees._

_"Save me!"_

_She got to her feet and struggled all the way until she reached him. She was close enough to look into his blue eyes._

_"Padmé, help me!"_

_She would save him. She would save him from himself. She raised her hand, palms facing outwards and shoved him. Hard._

_He fell then, his hands grasping air, his body becoming tinier and tinier as he fell through what seemed to be an impossible length. He said one word. No. He _screamed _one word: her name with such agony that it was always what woke her from the nightmare. She never remembered that scream or much of anything else in the dream 7while she was awake. _

_The look of shock and betrayal on his face was the only thing that followed her in the dreams she had awake._

* * *

_"… nightmares. She's been having them ever since…"_

_"… wake her?"_

_"… calls his name… never remembers afterwards…"  
"Who's Anakin?"_

_"…shhh… she's waking…"_

The voices diminished into soothing whispers and she felt a hand brush the hair from her face.

"My lady?" Dormé's gentle voice.

Slowly, Amidala opened her eyes. She was lying on her back, a soft cushion beneath her. Wherever she was, it was almost completely dark. She could feel rather than see Dormé's face looking down at her in concern. Other gazes seemed to burn into her.

"How do you feel, milady?" Captain Typho's voice.

There was no moment of confusion. Amidala had woken with the memory of the attack on her ship clear in her mind. "As fine as can be expected," she whispered. She tried to sit up and Dormé and Dané rushed to her side. She swatted them away and was pleased to find out that she sat up on her own easily. She didn't seem to be hurt in away.

"Take it easy, milady…" Dormé's worried voice.

"Where are we?" Amidala's normal speaking voice sounded thick to her ears. She must have been stunned for a long time. "The last thing I remember was being shot point-blank by a Kalmec Wookiee."

Typho said: "They marched us here; this is some sort of cell… in a tree."

"They marched _you_? You went willingly?"

There was a pause then Typho said tightly, "you and the handmaidens were stunned and completely in their captivity by the time my men and I got to the stateroom. If we had struggled they might have hurt you. They led us out, those of us who were unharmed and I insisted on being with you. Dormé and Dané came to not long after. It's just the four of us here."

"The others? My crew – where are they?"

"I don't know."

"And Artoo? What happened to him?"

"We don't know," Dané spoke up. "But if they didn't take him, he could have signaled for help." She sounded hopeful.

"If the Kalmec don't smash him to pieces first," Typho said rather nastily.

Her eyes were adjusting better to the dimness. She could make out the profile of her handmaidens and her captain. There were thin shards of light coming through the walls, which like Typho said, seemed to be made up of the branches of an enormous tree. The room was not dissimilar to the one where she had met with the High Council.

"How long have I been out?"

"Three hours."

She got to her feet, wrapping her cloak around her. Dormé and Dané picked up theirs. They had placed it beneath her as a cushion against the hard floor. She could make out Dormé's features now. Her usually impeccable and serene face was smudged with dirt and worry. Dané looked the same. Captain Typho looked extremely worried. Amidala couldn't blame them. She was pretty worried herself. She had the sinking suspicion that they had walked into a trap.

They had lifted the ship's shielding because Rwallra had come on board, supposedly to escort her to her appeal. Had the Kalmec been lurking in the background, spying on the ship, waiting to pounce at the slightest opportunity?

Or was it the more likely possibility – that Rwallra betrayed them? And if he had, who else could they not trust? His superior, the World Chieftain? Yarua? How far did the circle of betrayal extend?

"Is there a way we can get out of here?" She asked promptly.

"We've looked around. The trap door is tightly locked. The walls are completely impenetrable."

Amidala thought about that for a long time. So they couldn't escape – that left them at the mercy of their captors, the Kalmec. And Force knows how many others.

"Any word from the captors?"

"No."

No sooner had the word been spoken that they heard noises beneath them.

Her three guards sprang to stand in front of her, shielding her from the trap door opening before them. Amidala felt Dané tense, her feet setting themselves in combat stance, ready to swing a kick at the first thing that came through that door. Typho and Dormé were poised to do the same.

It was not a bad tactic, Amidala considered, the cell didn't seem to contain any viewcams, so they had the element of surprise on their side. Plus, whatever or whoever came through that trap door would be utterly vulnerable to the people already in the room. But even as her fists balled up, Amidala forced herself to think the tactic through. Their position of strength would only keep enemies _out_ of the cell. If they somehow overpowered the intruders and tried to go down the trap door, they would leave themselves as open to attack in the process as the intruders had done. And even if there was no Kalmec Wookiee waiting below to back up his mates entering their cell, Amidala had not forgotten the hair-raising journey she had taken on Rwallra's back when he led them to the meeting chamber. It was unlikely that the four humans could manage such a feat without tools of some sort. A cursory inspection showed that all three of her companions had been stripped of their tools. Dormé and Dané should have a weapon of some sort cleverly hidden beneath their clothes but Amidala doubted that either of them would be carrying a rope.

All this went through her head in a matter of seconds. Before the trap door fell back, she grabbed Dané's clenched fist.

"Do not attack," she whispered urgently.

Very, very slowly, Dormé unclenched her fist. Beside her, Dormé took longer to do the same.

A moment later, a familiar black Wookiee head appeared through the door.

Senator Amidala World Deputy Chieftain Rwallra said formally before he swung himself through. A second later, the silent Wookiee that also had been part of that first escort followed through.

"Traitor," Amidala said coolly.

I know how this appears, Rwallra said calmly, but you would be mistaken not to trust us.

A tiny flare of hope rose in Amidala but she kept her voice cynical, "I'm waiting for the proof of that."

Rwallra raised his hairy arms. I have none. All I can say is that if you don't trust me, you will be dead before the third sun sets and already the second has.

"You led the Kalmec to us!" Typho shouted before Amidala could speak.

The other Wookiee let out a low rumble before Rwallra shushed him with a loud clap on his shoulder.

I had no choice. The World Deputy Chieftain said simply. It was either that or have them blast your ship and everyone in it into smoke and fire. Typho started again and was cut off by the Wookiee's stern growl, I must remind you to keep your voice down otherwise all of us would face that same fate.

The memory of Cordé's body lying amid the debris and wreckage of the old Naboo Starfighter came to Amidala. She shuddered with horror and sadness.

The memories couldn't have been far from Typho's mind because his now quieter voice was still angry when he started: "You –"

Look, there is no time to explain. If you have any intention of leaving Kashyyyk alive then you will come with me now.

"You haven't given me any reason to trust you," Amidala insisted.

I can't.

"Don't listen to him, milady," Typho hissed, his eyes boring into Rwallra's. "It's a trap. He's leading us out so we can be shot as escapees."

Your enemies don't need a reason to execute you. You're already at their mercy.

Which enemies? The Kashyyyk? Or something more? Amidala wondered. "Who are my _enemies_ exactly?" she asked aloud.

Rwallra's hairy shoulders shuddered and he shook his head. "All I can say is that Yarua and I are probably the only ones you can trust on this world. You _must _trust me. Or you die."

Amidala looked hard into his black eyes. She knew better than to trust him on the strength of his words. But he offered a means of immediate escape and she would take it. She would figure out what to do afterwards.

There was one last question. "Where is my crew?"

"In your ship, waiting for you."

"Let's go."

* * *

It was another harrowing climb through the giant trees of Kashyyyk. Their prison was located in the lower levels and their journey was a perpetual ascent. Relatively, it went smoothly: they neatly avoided the Kalmec guards prowling in the branches above their own. There was a close shave when they came across a pair of Wookiee guards and had to stop. The humans hid behind Rwallra's fur while the other Wookiee walked up the branch they had been traversing and conversed with the guards until they walked away. Other than that, they conveniently encountered no other Wookiees on the way. 

The relief on Dané's face when the nameless Wookiee swung her onto the familiar landing platform was palpable. Dormé knew she felt the same. Captain Typho's stoic face was just grim. Padmé was frowning but she didn't look shaken. Dormé wasn't surprised. Her mistress was the most agile climber she knew: perhaps she had even found the ride on Rwallra's back too mild for her tastes.

Leave immediately. Make the jump to hyperspace as soon as you've left Kashyyyk orbit. The Kalmec are monitoring the skies. They will be aware once your ship lifts off. If they catch you…

He didn't need to complete his words.

"I will not forget this," Padmé declared. She raised her arms in the traditional farewell greeting.

The Deputy Chieftain and his comrade returned the gesture. Then in a flash of fur and claws, they had disappeared up the _wroshyr_ trees.

They found the ship intact, the crew anxious but unharmed.

"Senator Amidala!" cried Lieutenant Malo, the ship's pilot. "We feared the worst."

"Top officers, report to the deck at once," was Padmé's brisk business-like answer.

In seconds, Padmé assembled her top crew members and they compared notes. Evidently, when Rwallra boarded the ship, he had done so with a small group of fierce Kalmec thugs who had quickly overpowered the crew. Like Typho said, they had been rounded up and taken to a separate cell, similar to the one Padmé and the others had been in. A few hours ago, two Wookiees had infiltrated their cells and rescued them. The Wookiees had been tight-lipped and other than the words they used to ensure the crew's co-operation, they had not given them any useful information. The Naboo had been waiting in the ship for the Senator ever since.

"Did you send word to Coruscant?" Padmé asked.

"All trans-hyperspace communications were disabled," the ship's captain reported.

"We are wasting time, milady," Typho said urgently. "Remember Rwallra's warning? We can do the debriefing once we leave this airspace."

"In a moment, Captain Typho. What about casualties? The injured?"

"Toto Jankerrie is dead, milady." Padmé's face closed. Perhaps only Dormé could read the pain and anger her mistress was trying desperately not to show. "And several others injured but we're fit enough to fly."

"Has anyone seen my droid?"

"He's been here all the while. I guess they thought a droid must be harmless. He's down in engineering now, trying to fix the trans-hyperspace com. No luck, so far."

"Get him."

Typho bristled while they waited for R2-D2. Dormé felt like bristling with him. Any moment now the Kalmec guards would be discovering their empty cell and sending troops after them. She trusted her mistress usually but she couldn't understand why Padmé didn't just wait until they were off-planet to make her investigations.

"Excuse me, milady," whispered a small voice.

Padmé and Dormé turned to stare at Dané. She blushed beneath her hood but she went on all the same. "Hadn't we better take off while you make inquiries?"

Dormé was pleasantly surprised. _Good for you, Dan_é She thought happily even though she really ought to have been annoyed. It was disrespectful for a handmaiden to show such dissension with her mistress in public. Still, it was nice to see Dané – who was usually so awed by the senator that she rarely voiced an opinion in her presence – overcome her timidity to speak up for something she felt strongly.

Still Dormé held her breath as she waited for Padmé's reaction to Dané's statement. If it offended the senator – and the oddest things tended to do these days – she would probably gift Dané with one of the caustic comments that seemed to roll more and more easily off her tongue. That would be enough to make the poor girl retreat into her shell and remain there permanently.

Fortunately and rather unexpectedly, their mistress did not seem to take offence. "I have my reasons, Dané," she said gently. "Just be patient."

At that moment, a crewman entered the stateroom, the blue astromech droid in tow. The little droid rolled, whistling and beeping to Padmé and she spoke softly to it. Then she led it to a console and it plugged itself in.

"I'm sure there's one on board this vessel, Artoo," she said. "Find it."

"What is he looking for, milady?" Typho asked. Dormé was intrigued, herself.

"He'll know when he finds it," was Padmé's cryptic reply.

During the tense minutes that followed, Dormé visualized the ship being surrounded by snarling bare-shouldered Wookiees. In her fantasy, two of them were attaching a bomb to the fuselage.

This unpleasant line of thought was brought to an abrupt halt when Artoo started whistling shrilly.

"It's right there, isn't it?" Padmé asked and even she sounded excited.

Artoo thrilled even more shrilly.

"What?" asked Typho.

She ignored him and asked the droid, "Do you think you can disable it?"

Its reply was a softer whistle, showing uncertainty.

"Try then. It won't go off until the ship enters orbit? Are you sure?"

Dormé's heart leaped with shock. Beside her, Typho gasped.

Artoo whistled.

Padmé turned to her crew with a grim face. Dormé didn't need to hear her next words.

"There's a bomb on this ship programmed to go off at the instant we've left planetary orbit."

There was an instant outcry from the crew members present.

"Everybody calm down," Padmé said loudly and there was silence. "Artoo is trying to disable it. I think he can. In the meantime, this ship can ascend and remain in Kashyyyk's orbit. We're safe for the moment."

"But what do we do if it doesn't work?" cried one young girl, who clearly refused to be reassured. "We can't call for help. If we remain in their orbit, the Kalmec will kill us for sure!"

Padmé's fingers flashed in the quick hand gesture that was the handmaiden's secret code. The next moment, Dané was on her feet and was marching the hysterical girl, gently but firmly out of the stateroom.

"She's right, you know," Malo said quietly. "We're dead if we can't call for help."

"You're both wrong," Padmé said coldly. "There are several a perfectly working trans-hyperspace com units on this world. Any one would be enough to fetch us aid. And I have a good idea where to locate the nearest one."

It took a moment for the words to sink in. Then another kind of outcry broke out.

"Milady, I _strongly _protest!" Typho shouted.

"Protest acknowledged, Captain. You have permission not to accompany me."

It took a great deal of effort for Dormé not to speak up. She barely managed to contain herself as the senator rode over all the protests from the crew.

"Prepare to take off the instant my handmaidens and I have left ship," she ordered. "Leave a shuttle behind. When we have possession of the unit, we will meet you in orbit."

There was a grumble from her crew. Malo seemed to be shocked into silence.

"At once!"

Her voice was as sharp as a whiplash and as if struck, the crew scrambled to carry out her orders. Only Typho remained still, glowering down her back as she swept out of the deck, her handmaidens in tow.

Dané's shock was obvious when she heard the news but she kept silent this time. The two handmaidens loaded their utility belts as Padmé instructed: ascension guns, handgrips, blasters, ammunition, foldable vibro-blades…

"You may speak freely, Dormé," her mistress said as she strapped on her utility belt. She had long changed into the camouflage green equivalent of the uni-suit she had worn under her cloak; her feet were encased in a matching pair of boots. Dané was changing into an identical outfit; Dormé already wore hers although she was still barefoot. The three were almost indistinguishable. It was deliberate. The senator might need a decoy.

Dormé took her time loading her own belt as she chose her words carefully. She wasn't going to launch into a tirade: '_I strongly protest'_ hadn't got Typho very far.

"Either Dané or I could do this. You're risking yourself going back there. And –" she continued before her mistress could interrupt her with a sharp comment about duty – "if a galactic senator dies in Kashyyyk air space, the purpose of this mission will be defeated. The Chancellor won't wait for Kashyyyk to secede. He'll declare them murderers and traitors."

She held her breath, bracing herself for the worst. Recently, she had learnt to expect Padmé's nasty scoldings. Consequently, the senator's smile took her completely by surprise.

"Dormé, haven't you realized it yet? That's exactly what someone here is trying to do!"

Dormé stared.

"The Council of Wookiees owed me an appeal," Padmé continued patiently. "A Wookiee's bond is sacred. They could have had me killed after the appeal. Not before. That would have been dishonorable."

Dormé thought for a while. "So the Council of Wookiees is not behind the attack? Someone – some individual - is?"

Padmé nodded.

Unexpectedly, Dané cut in. "When I was at Royal House of Learning in Theed, I made friends with a Wookiee called Rorworr."

The other two turned to look at her.

Dané blushed but continued all the same. "He was the most honorable creature I had ever met and I thought all of his kind must be the same. But that's not always the case. For example, my lady, the Kalmec know no honor," she finished, rather timidly.

"She's right," Dormé said at once.

Padmé raised a brow. "I suspect the Kalmec are as much pawns in this thing as I am supposed to be. Make no mistake, both of you: nothing that has happened here was a coincidence. I was meant to come here and perhaps be killed."

"Perhaps?" yelped Dané.

The senator frowned. "Perhaps. There's something that hasn't quite added up." She bent her head and seemed to go into deep thought.

"Who's behind this?" Dané persisted, no doubt thinking her mistress was taking the matter of her assassination a little too calmly. "Rwallra?"

Padmé looked up, still frowning. "Rwallra's too obvious. He won't have dirtied his hands so damnably. He's carrying out someone else's agenda, either as a pawn or an accomplice. And that someone is part of the governing council – someone we met during that meeting. Where's my blaster?" She asked suddenly. "We've wasted enough time already."

Dané handed Padmé a blaster. Dormé bent to wear her boots. Her mind was still on the case

"What about Yarua?" she thought aloud. Dané looked down at her in surprise. Padmé stopped midway through checking the chamber of her blaster to give her a shrewd look. "He arranged for the meeting."

"Why would he want Kashyyyk to go to war?" Dané asked.

"Greed. Power." It was Padmé that answered. Her lips curled slightly. "There are a lot of politicians who would stoop at nothing to hold onto their positions." She snapped her blaster shut with an angry click.

"And it's clear that there is not much love lost between him and his Council," Dormé added, getting to her feet.

"What about Zarrarocca?" Dané asked. She was securing her own blaster in its arm grip. "He has a good reason for wanting revenge against the Trandoshans. They killed his sons."

"Their quarrel with Trandosha is reason enough to secede. Why go to all the trouble of killing me to label Kashyyyk a Separatist territory? Which Wookiee would profit from that?"

"Exactly! _Who_? And _why_?" Dormé asked as she secured a combination chrono/com device on her wrist.

Padmé's eyes narrowed into slits. At that moment, she looked so dangerous that Dormé almost felt sorry for whoever had orchestrated this scheme.

Almost.

"I know one thing, though: The Kashyyyk governing council owes me an appeal. And an appeal is what I intend to get.

* * *

You're late, Chief Zarrarocca growled. 

Yarua ran manicured claws through his perfumed fur. It was a nervous gesture but to the other Wookiees, it seemed like a display of indifference. Through the shards of light that flooded the hidden chamber, he could see bared fangs.

A thousand pardons, Yarua purred. I was still rather preoccupied with the small business of my missing colleague. His black eyes stared at each of his colleagues' in turn. They met his gaze, all of them.

Is her ship still berthed? asked Rwallra, looking hard at Yarua.

Not anymore, Yarua said. I find it hard to believe that she would leave without any word to me. She was very insistent on this appeal.

The limitation on the appeal has expired, Chief Zarrarocca declared. No doubt, she asked for an appeal as mere bluster. She had nothing more to use to convince us and she knew it. She and her people must be long gone by now.

How typical of these senators, said Jewbacca, Chief of the Island of Casin. None can be trusted to keep their word. Not one. Yellow eyes flashed malevolently at Yarua.

Yarua lifted his claws from his fur slowly. Yes, Jewbacca. How typical of senators. I spent many years cleaning up the filth your son left behind on Coruscant.

Jewbacca's claws snapped out in challenge so quickly that Yarua's eyes stung.

He hissed one word. Sunset.

Yarua grinned. With pleasure.

That is enough! Zarrarocca roared. Yarua take your place! How dare you call the Council of Warriors to a meeting, come late, and provoke us on top of it all!

Half way to his position between Rwallra and the Chief of Teccar, Yarua froze.

I called this meeting?

Zarrarocca opened his mouth to retort … then paused.

Of course, you called the meeting!

I came here, Yarua said slowly, on the summons I received from _your_ personal skin-guards.

A murmur broke out amongst the Wookiees. Every voice was raised to Yarua, insisting that he was the one who called the meeting.

But I did not! Yarua cried. I didn't!

Then who did? Why are we here?

"I did. Because I am owed an appeal."

As one body, they all turned. Standing over the trap door they had just clambered through, was Senator Amidala.

* * *

The penalty for impersonating a Warrior is death, Zarrarocca roared. And don't think your diplomatic immunity can save you. Your very actions which speak of your Republic's disrespect and dishonor of the Wookiee people have decided for us. As of this moment, Kashyyyk is no longer a member of the Republic! 

A low but steady rumble of echoing roars boomed in the backdrop of this declaration. In the strangely lit Council chamber, the flash of bared teeth and claws glinted and every bushy-browed, deep-set Wookiee eye stared malevolently at Amidala.

Whether the Chief's declaration was the consensus of the Council or his own personal opinion might soon be inconsequential. Before her very eyes, the beginnings of the split between Kashyyyk and the Republic were being formed in the angry glares of this ruling Council of Warriors.

If there was ever a moment to act quickly, it was now.

Senator Amidala took the floor without permission and her voice rang loud and clear through the small chamber.

"I was invited to your world to speak about peace and unity in this time of war. To speak about reconciliation and solidarity. To speak to the hearts and minds of those who have been renowned for their loyalty to our beloved Republic and to ask them for patience. But I came here and met a race already eating the poison of sedition and betrayal." She raised her voice against the uproar that answered her. "I came here to see deceit and treachery, dishonor and corruption trickling from the very apex of this once noble people of honor."

The Chief threw his staff at her. Amidala held her ground as it flew over her head. It struck the wall with a large echoing clash. From beneath her, she heard running noises.

Skin guards! shouted the Chief, crossing the floor in quick strides. Come and take the woman from our sight!

You go too far, Senator! How dare you speak against the Warriors! Skin guards! Where are the skin guards? He stamped his foot on the trapdoor beneath him angrily.

Now, all except two of the Warriors were at their feet, brandishing their fists at Amidala. Deputy Chieftain Rwallra stood rigid and silent in the middle of this pandemonium. Senator Yarua was calmly polishing his claws against his fur.

I'm sure they would come if they could. He said casually into a momentary split-second of silence. But they are preoccupied at this moment.

The split-second of silence stretched. Slowly, Chief Zarrarocca turned his burning gaze from the senator before him to the one beside him.

What does that mean? His voice was a dangerous purr.

They are unharmed, I assure you. Yarua said coolly. But unless the Kalmec make another sudden appearance and overcome my own personal skin guards, your guards will remain in my custody until Senator Amidala has her appeal heard.

This time the silence almost shouted with profound shock. All the Warriors stared blankly as they tried to process the bombshell of information that Yarua had so casually dropped on them. Amidala's eyes flew from Zarrarocca to Rwallra to Yarua. The World Chieftain was visibly bristling. She had a fair idea which. Rwallra's own eyes shifted from Yarua to Zarrarocca rapidly. Then he made eye contact with her and he returned her piercing gaze with a steady one of his own before he looked away. Yarua's upper teeth were protruding. He was smiling, clearly enjoying every moment of the pandemonium he had helped create.

It was the lesser Chief Jewbacca of Casin that spoke first.

You called the meeting, Yarua. Didn't you?

But of course! Yarua said cheerfully. It was the least I could do for a fellow member of the Senate.

You deceived us all, then. You and Amidala.

"There was nothing else we could do. Someone tried very hard to prevent me from returning here." Amidala declared and her eyes fell on each of the Warriors in turn. And very briefly, she told them about her abduction and the bomb on her ship. She finished with how she found Yarua and asked his help in arranging this meeting. The only aspect of the story she altered was when she substituted one of Yarua's skin guards for the role Rwallra played in the rescue.

She had their attention, she could tell from the riveted gazes on her. Chief Zarrarocca opened his mouth to speak but Jewbacca had already started talking again.

So the Kalmec are on Kashyyyk?

The Kalmec are always on Kashyyyk, Amidala retorted. This is their home and someone in this Council has made sure that they will always be welcome here.

There was a collective snarl.

You insult the Warriors with those accusations! And when you insult the Warriors you insult all of Kashyyyk, Jewbacca said gravely.

"I only insult the traitor in your midst."

There are no traitors in this gathering!

"There is, O Chief." Amidala insisted. "There has been one from the very beginning. What if I tell you that this Council and the entire race of noble Wookiees are being manipulated by a Master Deceiver to secede from the Republic? What if I tell you that the cause of your dissension with the Republic is a lie?"

What do you mean?

"The Trandoshans claimed they killed the 215 Wookiees on that ship because they were suspected Kalmec cultists, didn't they? What if I tell you that they were right?"

This time, Chief Zarrarocca lifted the table and threw it at her. Amidala saw the missile coming a split second before she fell to her knees. It flew over her head and smashed into the wall. Zarrarocca reached for another object and Yarua held his arms.

No.

There was no humor, no lightness in Yarua's voice. His eyes were steely with anger.

Yarua – even you? Zarrarocca roared. You will allow her to desecrate the memory of those sacred to us? My two sons – five of our sons and daughters – died on that ship! Were they cultists?

"There were innocent Wookiees on that ship," Amidala admitted. "But they were only a handful. And they were sacrificed."

The Warriors looked around in confusion, uncertain as to whether to defend the Chieftain or to listen to Amidala's words.

It was Deputy Chieftain Rwallra that made that decision.

Speak, Senator.

The Chieftain snarled at this but he was the only one. So Amidala spoke.

"The ill-fated ship has very little history. Where did it come from? What was its number? Its registration? Was it a trading vessel? A scientific barge? Does anyone on this Council know?"

Silence.

"Someone must know something! This ship must have had a departure port. A flight plan. A manifesto. Where are all these things? How come no mention was ever made of them in the sensational news that followed the case in the beginning?"

What do you mean? Jewbacca said angrily, but it was the anger of someone who was confused and annoyed at his confusion. Of course the ship had a registration, a manifesto. It transported Wookiee children from the Institute of Learning in M'elll. It wasn't a phantom vehicle.

"Can you give me the name of one Wookiee on board that ship who was not a student of M'elll? A child of a member of this Council?" Amidala asked wryly.

Silence.

"I wondered myself, Chief," she said passionately. "After searching through records and records of the case, I discovered facts so incredible that I found them unbelievable… But they are facts, members of this august Council. And the facts are undeniable.

"An unmarked transport vessel left port somewhere in the Outer Rim en route to Kashyyyk. It passed beside a Trandoshan moon and was shot down. And somehow, somewhere between this unknown departure point and Kashyyyk, three of the Warriors' progeny on their way home from school somehow joined up with this vessel."

Five. Zarrarocca corrected her with a growl.

Amidala smiled at him. "Five, of course."

A red-haired Wookiee standing beside Jewbacca spoke up suddenly. My son, Jekkrallra, his sister, Llarra and their friends were on their way home from M'elll.

Amidala could hear the gruff pain in his voice and she pitied him. But she had to be completely merciless now.

"Where did they board the vessel? From M'elll?"

From… they boarded it from… The Warrior stopped abruptly. He turned startled eyes to Amidala. I had always assumed it was from M'elll. But they had left M'elll days before the massacre happened.

The M'elll-Kashyyyk route is through the other side of system, directly opposite from Trandosha and its moons, Jewbacca said slowly. Dralla's vessel landed in the South-East. After a pause, he added. Dralla was my son.

"And when did _he_ leave his Institute?" Amidala asked gently.

Days earlier. I was worried about his arrival long before this happened. And as he spoke, his voice was wondering. What does this mean?

"It means we were all deceived. So much focus was placed on the number of Wookiees killed and the xenophobia of Trandosha that no one thought to investigate if their claim was true."

She had them. All eyes were on her. Even Zarrarocca was staring with rapt attention.

"The vessel _was_ a Kalmec ship and it was headed for Trandosha. How your children were taken on board that ship, we may never know. But it is safe to say that they may have been held against their will and used as a front to pass off the ship as an innocent transport vehicle. However word still reached Trandosha about the planned Kalmec attack. So they shot down the ship. In self-defense."

What proof do you have of this? Zarrarocca asked.

His words sent a jolt of pure, unadulterated thrill down Amidala's spine. He couldn't have asked at a better time if she had planned it.

"I have the proof on my person," she said triumphantly. She opened the side of her utility belt and retrieved a tiny data crystal. "A manifesto of all the passengers on board that vessel, its registration number and its history."

But how -? a Wookiee asked

"From Alderaani Intelligence. I have no idea how they got it but that's not what is important. What is important is that in that manifesto, with the exception of five under-age Wookiees, every single passenger was wanted in several systems for his association with the Kashyyyk cult."

She stretched her hand to Jewbacca. He hesitated. The room seemed to be holding its breath; the whole group of Wookiees seemed to hesitate with him. Even Yarua looked uncertain.

"Don't take my word for it," Amidala insisted. "You have access to intergalactic records of transport ships and criminals. Verify them. Discover the truth for yourself." _And you will see that the Trandoshans' actions, whatever their personal motives, were justified. You have no quarrel with them or with the Republic._

_And no reason whatsoever to join the Separatists._

Very slowly, very carefully, Jewbacca of Casin reached for the crystal.

* * *

"I want to thank you for the help you've given my people," Rwallra said gravely as he gently deposited the Senator of Naboo and her handmaiden on the landing platform of her ship. "You have saved us from a situation we can only begin to contemplate now." 

Senator Yarua was already waiting with Dané and Typho. And so we say good bye, he said cheerfully. I owe you a visit, my dear Senator Amidala. I trust yours to my little home must have been very entertaining. His sharp teeth made an appearance.

A noise in the distance called Dormé's attention. The ship's ramp was lowering. Even from this distance, Dormé could make out the frown lines on Captain Typho's face. She hid a smile and turned back to her mistress just in time to see the wry smile on Padmé's own face.

"I have a small confession to make," Padmé said to the Wookiees. "There was a brief moment when I doubted if you two were really on the Republic's side in this matter."

What! They cried as one.

"A _brief _moment," Padmé repeated hastily. "Long before I understood that you had nothing to do with the bomb in my vessel. But before then... I didn't know who to trust.."

So you thought I would have Rwallra rescue you in order to blow you up a few minutes later? Yarua cried, looking dreadfully hurt. Rwallra on his part, merely looked baffled.

"That's what convinced me. You could have killed me just as easily on-planet."

We were trying to keep you safe, Rwallra said. And we only ended up playing into our enemy's paws. If you had died on that ship, Kashyyyk's fate as an enemy of the Republic would have been sealed.

"Well," said Padmé. "It's a good thing that he worked so hard trying to keep his paws clean that he didn't take the easy way out and just have me killed in jail by his thugs."

I still believe immediate exposure would have been better than this waiting, Rwallra said, continuing an argument that had started before Padmé Amidala had made her dramatic appeal to the Kashyyyk Council, before Yarua had staged his 'emergency meeting' with the same Council.

"Remember, there is no proof," Padmé said sharply. "Besides, change must be gradual. Let the people first accept that the Trandoshans were not murderers and that the Republic still looks after its own. Then the matter of your Chieftain and his secret dealings with the Kalmec and the Separatists can be resolved with as little blood spilt as possible. Remember, he has been warned already. He denied it, of course," she said, referring to the clandestine meeting that she, Rwallra, Yarua and Zarrarocca had just finished. "But he is on his guard now. He knows better than to do anything foolish."

The fact that his face was still skeptical even as he bowed to her was a credit to the high esteem that Padmé had won from the Deputy Chieftain of Kashyyyk.

My people and I are in your debt, Senator, now and forever. I give you my life bond. My obligations to my people prevent me from accompanying you on your daily travels but always know that whenever you need help, you have only to call and I will be at your side.

Padmé bowed deeply. "You honor me."

Rwallra stepped backwards and she turned to Yarua. He still looked hurt.

I can't believe you thought I would ever harm you! He exclaimed before she could speak. I am your colleague! Your friend! Do you think so little of your fellow senators?

"Forgive me, Yarua," Padmé said earnestly.

Yarua just waved her off angrily. Two more attempts for Padmé to speak with him only brought her repeated rejections. She shook her head ruefully and with a final bow to the two Wookiees, started walking the ramp, Dormé and Dané behind her.

The moment, the ramp closed behind her, the air of contriteness fell from her. "The big womprat must think me a fool."

"What?" Dormé asked, alarmed. Was Yarua part of the conspiracy after all?

"That little display was just to make sure that he doesn't have to admit that he was in my debt in any way," Padme explained. "Yarua is a politician to the last."

Dané laughed. Padmé gave her an irritated look and the girl fell silent at once.

They had reached the landing of the deck and there, Padmé halted. After the first glimpse of her, the crewmen stood at attention.

"My lady!" hailed the ship's captain, happy incredulity on his face. Dormé wondered if he was as surprised as she was that they had come back safely in one piece.

Her mistress was all business. "What is the ship's status?"

Whistling and beeping, a little astromech droid wheeled itself to stand beside the Captain.

"The weapon has been disabled, milady," the Captain declared proudly. "All COMs are back online."

"Good. Prepare for immediate take-off."

The crew busied themselves in the bridge below. Padmé remained standing at the landing, watching them.

Her handmaidens waited with her. Dané was still slightly pink and her eyes were downcast. Dormé sneaked glances from the young girl to her not so much older mistress. She wondered how someone as brilliant, courageous, remarkable and passionate about injustice as Senator Amidala could at the same time be so cold and cruelly indifferent about someone's else' feelings.

She wondered about other things and after thinking about it twice, thrice, Dormé dared the risk and asked.

"How long did you know that Zarrarocca was in league with the Kalmec?"

"I always suspected that the meetings with the Separatists had been arranged long before the Trandoshan incident," Padmé said at once. "They were just too convenient. Then I got Bail's data chip. Once I read the manifesto and realized that Zarrarroca's two sons had not been students from the Institute, I became even more suspicious."

"Why?"

"Because every one on that passenger vessel was either a student or a Kalmec cultist. His sons were not students. So what were they?"

"Even if his sons had been cultists, that did not mean that he was – or that he was even aware that they were in the Kalmec."

"Like I said – there's no proof. But in matters of honor, Wookiee laws are indisputable. No amount of natural affection would have saved a dishonorable child from the wrath of his parent. If he had known his sons were cultists, then Zarrarocca as the Kashyyyk Chieftain was bound to expose them and kill them. For him to have protected them, he must have sympathized with their cause…"

Dormé thought about this for a long time.

"Although… " Padmé said suddenly.

"What?" Dormé asked.

She hesitated. When she finally spoke, she sounded different, less sure of herself. "Do you have the feeling that there is something we're overlooking?"

"I don't understand."

"Some…" Padmé began and then halted. Her efforts to articulate her thoughts were frustratingly obvious on her face. "Never mind," she said rather shortly.

"Of course, milady." Dormé said at once.

"I would need to present a report on this to the Senate and the Chancellor. Prepare a concise one. Reduce mentions of the risks taken. I do not want anything here to ever be used against the Kashyyyk in any way." Padmé was fully herself again, business-like, brisk and almost nasty.

"Of course, milady."

The countdown sequence was complete and the floor rocked slightly beneath them as turbo blasters propelled the ship against planetary gravity. Through the viewscreen beneath them, the waving figures of Yarua and Rwallra became tinier and tinier until they were swallowed by _wroshyr_ trees. Soon, the green world of Kashyyyk filled the screen. Then, it receded into the cosmos.

Long after the white lines of hyperspace streaked the windows, the two handmaidens still remained by their mistress' side as Senator Padmé Amidala of Naboo stood at the landing, contemplating her victory.

And trying not to thinkhow, after all she had achieved, all she felt was emptiness.

* * *


	6. Hope of the Heroes

**CHAPTER V**

**Hope of the Heroes**

The orange light of early morning stood in stark contrast to the blue grey marble of the Jedi Council Chamber. Dust rising in the air caught the light, creating a shimmery, translucent glow. The Jedi Masters present sat in contemplative silence.

After permitting them several moments Yoda lowered himself from his seat. Grasping his gimer stick in one small hand he began to slowly pace.

"The Battle of Kamino, a hopeless battle it was. Many of our Order we lost, too many. But our future it has become."

"You mean to speak of Anakin." Shaak Ti's quiet voice sliced to the heart of Yoda's unspoken thoughts.

"His future is our own." he said simply.

"His actions were reckless and unorthodox." Mace Windu pointed out, his face, as always, a mask of grim determination.

Eeth Koth concurred. "Yes. But are they not always? Much to the chagrin of his Master. But he is an extraordinary asset. If it were not for his actions, we would have lost Kamino," he concluded. Most of the assembled nodded in agreement.

"Yes, the Chosen One he is becoming." Yoda's voice was thoughtful.

"Yet he is dangerous, we can all sense it." Ki-Adi-Mundi's words echoed through time.

"He is in pain." Shaak Ti countered.

Saesee Tinn's usual frown deepened. "That is why he is dangerous."

Yoda raised his hand to silence them all. He stopped pacing in the center of the circular room, in a ray of golden light cast through the large windows.

"Yes, such is the fate of the Chosen One. Different from his Jedi brothers he must be. See that now we can. His power isolates him from us. Dangerous it is. Power can win battles, but also it can destroy. Correct is Master Ti, in great pain Skywalker is. But not because of war." He paused, as if hesitant to reveal what he had only just come to realize. "In love Anakin is."

The diminutive Master bowed his head.

He did not pause to assess the reactions of the assembled Masters.

"Dangers he risks, battles he wins, to kill this pain. Never recovered has he, from his mother's death and from the arm he lost. Looking to the Force for support he is not. Only so much, can his Master do. His failure is our own. Upon ourselves we have brought this."

"Master surely –" Ki-Adi-Mundi began only to be interrupted at once.

"No." Yoda tapped his stick hard against the floor. "In love Anakin was! How did this happen? Failed we have. Failed to see him. Not too late this is. A great Jedi he still can become. The _future_ of this Order he may be."

"But he is falling." Mace looked Yoda directly in the eye.

Yoda responded resolutely, "and catch him we must, if that is the will of the Force."

* * *

Amid the traffic of the inner rim space lanes, a ship streaked towards Coruscant through hyperspace. Had it been visible at that velocity, its scarlet hue and distinctive Corellian lines would have easily marked it as a Republic Cruiser. The ship's trademark red color had been the indicator of neutrality throughout the galaxy as long as any living being could remember. Even before that; since the dark times. 

In the intervening centuries, galactic peace had made the necessity for color coded space vessels obsolete. The Republic, steeped in tradition, had continued the practice anyway. Now, with the galaxy once again at war, colors were regaining popularity. Not that it made any difference. Lately, the Confederacy hadn't shown a propensity for respecting displays of neutrality, especially if a vessel was unclassified and armed.

This particular Cruiser, the _Resplendent II_, was neither. Even now, in this time of war, it had not been fitted with lasers or torpedoes. Instead, it preferred to rely on a powerful hyperdrive and deflector shields to save it from threatening situations. Headed home from a mission to Thyferra, it was blazing through hyperspace in relative anonymity.

The pharmaceutical manufacturing complex on Thyferra, the fourth planet in the Polith system, had long been the center of bacta production in the galaxy. Though certainly not the sole source of the healing compound, it was the primary provider to large military organizations such as the new Army of the Republic. A fact not lost on the Separatists.

Several weeks ago the complex's main bacta holding tanks had shown a suspicious contamination – one that rendered the stored curative not only useless, but toxic to organic life forms. The discovery halted both production and distribution while the Thyferrans gave the problem over to their top research minds. A week later, a Thyferran representative was forced to report to the Senate that they had been unable to discover the source of the contamination on their own. It looked as if these particular batches of bacta fluid would have to be incinerated.

With each holding tank of bacta representing almost a month of harvesting and processing, the loss of so many reservoirs would prove devastating to the Thyferran economy. In addition to its local effects, the Clone Army wouldn't have adequate bacta to treat the influx of injured soldiers. It was a desperate Thyferran senator who delivered a heartfelt plea for assistance on behalf of his homeworld.

The response, while not overwhelming, had been sufficient. Numerous loyalist worlds had dispatched their top scientists to Thyferra to help find a solution. The Jedi sent their own biologists to assist, in addition to assigning a Master/Padawan team to investigate the production facility itself.

One half of that investigating team, Ferus Olin, now sat in a comfortable armchair in one of the _Resplendent's_ spacious passenger suites. He gave a good impression of reading the datapad in front of him, but every few minutes he found his eyes wandering towards the low couch only a few feet away. There, on comfortable cushions, swathed in the abundant fabric of her black dress and cloak, Barriss Offee slept peacefully. It was the first opportunity she'd had to rest in many days. He had tried to get her to go to her quarters, but she had insisted on staying while he wrote out their report. Not that she'd been much help. He gave a gentle smile at the thought. She'd been asleep only moments after he started writing.

It was a rest well-earned. Barriss and a young scientist from Alderaan had been the ones to uncover the source of the bacta contamination: genetically altered bacta cells. They weren't different enough for most machine or droid analysis to discover, but something subtle in their Force signatures had alerted Barriss to the dual nature of the impostors. Then, after two days of grueling analysis and speculation, Barriss herself had come up with a solution, engineering a large particle microorganism that could seek out and devour only the mutated bacta microbes. Within hours of inoculation the new microbe had done its job. The bacta solutions were filtered and found to be toxin free and ready for use.

It had been an amazing piece of scientific work and Ferus was beyond impressed. Impressed, but not surprised. Barriss had always possessed exceptional intellect and ability – especially with regard to living organisms. Plant or animal didn't seem to matter; if it was alive, Barriss could understand it. If it was sick, she could fix it.

He leaned forward and placed the datapad on a table, giving up the pretense of studying his report. Elbows resting on his knees, he took the rare opportunity to study Barriss's face. She was paler than usual after the stresses of the past week. Her ebony stained lips and the tiny black diamonds tattooed over her cheeks stood out in sharp relief. Somehow she'd managed to twist her usually hidden padawan braid around the fingers of the hand that pillowed her head. It was a strong reminder that although she seemed to be doing well outwardly, her lost Master was never far from her thoughts.

Several strands of dark hair had fallen across her cheek and shifted gently with each exhaled breath. Without thinking, Ferus raised his hand to brush them back.

"Ferus!" His master's voice startled him as the door to the compartment slid open. Guiltily he jumped to his feet, redirecting his hand to brush his own hair back.

Siri didn't seem to notice his unease, crossing the room quickly with an air of urgency about her. "We're nearing Coruscant and I just heard from Obi-Wan about Kamino." She perched on the edge of the empty chair beside the one that Ferus had just vacated. Her usually sky-blue eyes held a trace of sadness as she motioned for him to sit down.

"Kamino?" His mind raced. Oh yes, they'd spoken of it last night over dinner. At that point the battle had only just begun. He took his seat again.

"It was a win for the Republic," his master went on, "but hardly the one we anticipated." She sighed, dropping back against the cushions. Just like that the energy she always seemed to carry with her evaporated. Exhaustion etched new lines around her mouth and eyes.

"It should have been an easy victory." Ferus offered, recalling last evening's optimistic conversation.

"Yes, it should have." Siri closed her eyes and for the first time Ferus noticed traces of silver in her blonde hair. "Evidently our intelligence wasn't as accurate as we were led to believe."

"That doesn't sound good." Barriss muttered from the couch. She hadn't moved a muscle, but her eyes were open and alert. "I never did care much for the idea of stealth Jedi."

Siri nodded. "I agree. Once we start lying to others about who we are it becomes an easy step to begin deceiving ourselves." Ferus silently agreed. Whether motives were pure or corrupt, deceptions seemed to taint everything they touch.

"Did Master Obi-Wan mention Anakin?" Barriss asked from her prone position. "This was his first away mission in quite a while."

A wave of frustration, he wouldn't call it anger, swept through Ferus at Barriss's mention of Skywalker. He deliberately drew in a deep breath, focused all his negative feelings on that trapped air and exhaled slowly. The urge to make a cutting comment diminished significantly.

"Yes." Siri's eyes fluttered open to glance over at Barriss. "It seems he was quite the hero on Kamino, but I'll let him tell you all about it once we reach Coruscant. I imagine you both need a break." She sighed deeply and Ferus felt the tension trickle back into her body through their Force bond. Evidently she wasn't looking forward to their homecoming and now, with Skywalker playing the war hero, neither was he. It was almost enough to make him regret the rash promise he had made Barriss several weeks ago – that he would try to get along better with Anakin.

So far the task hadn't been difficult. He'd barely seen the other padawan, and even when their paths had crossed Ferus made sure they had no reason to speak to each other. It was, in his mind, a necessary safety measure. Promises like this one were easiest to keep at a distance.

Now, however, they were headed back to Coruscant and Ferus knew interacting with the Chosen One was inevitable. He didn't look forward to the test of his resolve.

Siri stood, stretching lightly. "Get your report finished. We should be coming out of hyperspace soon." She smiled to make her words less abrupt and swatted his shoulder affectionately. "You did well on Thyferra, Ferus."

"Thank you, Master." He replied matter-of-factly as she headed toward the door. As he leaned forward to pick up his datapad he couldn't resist adding, "You expected something different?"

To anyone else his words would have seemed arrogant, but his master only smiled ruefully. "No," Siri shot back, "I've long since given up hope that you'll prove you are just as human as the rest of us by screwing something up royally."

Ferus's lips twitched as the door closed behind her. He was used to his master's teasing about his perfectionist tendencies, but lately it left him feeling strangely bereft. It was one thing to be excellent at negotiation, combat training or academics. It was quite another to excel at subterfuge and killing. The latter just didn't sit well with him, no matter how the Council and the Senate tried to color it. If that was what it meant to be a Jedi during wartime…well… then, he'd need a great deal more meditation to find any peace with his duty.

Glancing over at Barriss, he wasn't surprised to find her asleep once more. Using the last leg of their journey in that fashion suddenly seemed a wise idea. He propped his booted feet on the low table in front of him, leaned his head back and drifted off.

* * *

On Coruscant, Anakin once again found himself watching the traffic lanes as he waited in the reception area outside the Supreme Chancellor's office. 

He'd only just returned to the Temple from Kamino a few hours ago and had strict orders to spend the morning either sleeping or meditating. Though he was still mentally and physically exhausted, his mind was racing and he had found himself unable to do either.

He'd been both surprised and relieved when Palpatine's invitation arrived. Obi-Wan had gone to meet Siri, who was returning from a mission, and he would probably accompany her to the Council for debriefing. Left to his own devices, Anakin didn't hesitate to accept the summons.

"The Chancellor will see you now." Sly Moore informed him tonelessly. The pallid Umbaran who served as the Chancellor's aide glanced up at him as he passed. Her face, as usual, was devoid of expression, but he thought there might have been a hint of curiosity in her colorless gaze. He spared her a slight smile as he waved the office door open and went inside.

"Anakin!" Chancellor Palpatine's greeting was happy and heartfelt. He stood quickly and walked out from behind his desk. "I heard that you were back from Kamino. The whole story sounds so incredible that I couldn't resist the opportunity to hear it from your perspective." He rested a friendly hand on Anakin's shoulder.

Anakin couldn't help smiling at the Chancellor's enthusiasm, though he was still wrestling with his own misgivings about the way Kamino had played out.

A small table and two chairs were set up by one of the large windows. It boasted what appeared to be several varieties of fruit, an elaborate plate of pastries and a carafe that Anakin hoped would contain something warm and stimulating. Palpatine steered him gently in that direction.

"Please, join me for a bite to eat?" Palpatine asked, motioning for Anakin to sit. He did, surprised to discover that he actually _was_ feeling a little hungry.

As they ate Anakin recounted the events on Kamino – the difference between republic intelligence and the method of the separatists' attack, the Mon Calamari defection, the loss of his Jedi comrades, the way his final plan just seemed to fall together. He hesitated only briefly when he described his confrontation with Commander Merai before skipping ahead to his escape and subsequent rescue.

The Chancellor listened intently, his expression strangely sad.

"All the killing. It bothers you, doesn't it son?" Palpatine's tone dripped with empathy and the flood of emotion it engendered made Anakin want to squirm in his seat. He took a drink instead. Even Obi-Wan hadn't zeroed in on the conflict he still felt over his actions.

"Sometimes it does." He set his cup down and leaned back in his chair. He found he couldn't meet the chancellor's over-sympathetic gaze and settled for once again turning his focus to the traffic lanes outside. "Other times…not so much. It's confusing, really – having different rules for the Jedi because we're at war."

All of a sudden he couldn't sit still. He stood and started pacing between the table and the window. "As a Jedi I was taught that killing indiscriminately is wrong. How did it suddenly become part of our duty? And why do I feel sick about it one minute and elated the next? I don't understand!" He was surprised at the vehemence in his own voice. It was almost as if the tension that had been building in him since leaving Kamino had reached a boiling point. Those questions and a dozen others had been colliding in his mind all morning. In truth, since Geonosis.

Anakin stopped pacing and risked a glance back at the man he considered a trusted advisor and friend. The older man was watching him intently.

"It has to do with politics, Anakin." Although Palpatine's expression was intense, his voice was weary. He suddenly sounded very old. "Nobody wanted war, least of all the Jedi or myself, but it had become obvious that the Separatists wouldn't be stopped any other way." He steepled his hands. "The Jedi realize that democracy…that the Republic…must survive at any cost."

Anakin admitted to himself that he still didn't understand. His view on the Republic wasn't as clear as everyone else's seemed to be. But Palpatine believed in it and so did the Jedi and he would loyally serve both. He felt a wave of guilt for his earlier outburst. Here he was, just a Jedi padawan, wrestling with minor moral dilemmas under the nose of the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic. Palpatine must have far more important issues weighing on his mind, matters that were more stressful and of greater importance.

"I'm sorry, sir." He offered, now that his anger had ebbed. "I shouldn't be bringing my problems here. I'm sure you have enough to deal with."

"Nonsense Anakin." Palpatine smiled paternally. "I'm always interested in whatever is going on with you; you know that. In fact, I welcome our discussions. They offer respite from, as you said, all those other things I deal with." He sighed deeply, rising from his seat. "Come to think of it, I suppose I'd better be getting back to work. I have several appointments this afternoon."

He crossed to Anakin and together they walked toward the door. "Speaking of things going on with you…Have you heard from Senator Amidala since your return from Naboo?"

Anakin's chest tightened and he looked at the carpet. "No."

"Oh." Palpatine sounded surprised. "I'm rather surprised to hear that." He looked at Anakin inquiringly. Anakin could feel the gaze on the side of his face.

He kept silent. Talking about _her_ brought him even less pleasure than thinking about her. Knife-eating would have been a more pleasant experience, he was sure.

"You know," Palpatine prodded gently. "I could arrange a diplomatic task for you, something that might cause the two of you to cross paths."

Anakin's heart jumped. The idea of it - to cross paths, no matter how fleetingly, with _her_… It would mean being around her, seeing her, hearing her voice. It was almost tempting beyond measure.

Almost.

"No sir," he said heavily. "I don't think so. Pa - uh, Senator Amidala, made her opinion of my feelings very clear. I'm going to do my best to respect her wishes." _Even if it kills me_.

Because it would be sheer pointless torture. She had made her decision. There was no point keeping false hope alive.

"Very well then," The Chancellor readily agreed, "but if you change your mind…" He waved the door open. Several senators were milling about the waiting area. They all turned to see who had caused their delay. Anakin could sense their curiosity and it lifted his spirits somewhat.

"Thank you, Padawan Skywalker." Palpatine nodded in a businesslike fashion, addressing him formally. "I'm sure that information will prove most helpful."

"As always, I appreciate the opportunity to be of service to the Senate." Anakin responded with a respectful nod of his own before turning to leave.

He really did feel better, even if the Kamino issues remained unresolved, even if he had been unpleasantly remembered of the void _she_ had left in his life. Talking to the Chancellor always had that kind of calming effect on him, putting things back into focus. It occurred to him to head down to the practice arena. A bit of lightsaber sparring might be just the thing to help clear his mind. He quickened his pace.

* * *

He was caught. 

Thirty minutes into his stretches, the door of the last training room at the end of the practice halls swung open. Anakin almost broke his neck falling out of his head stand.

"Master Yoda!"

It was indeed the old Jedi, poised on his hoverchair as he beckoned to Anakin.

"Give a few moments of your company, mind you?" the ancient Master asked.

As far as any Padawan and most Masters were concerned, from Yoda that was a rhetoric question. Silently, Anakin followed the bobbing hoverchair down the practice hall, not even allowing himself to think why Yoda had clearly come looking for him, hours after his arrival in the Temple. In his experience, Yoda had never singled him out for attention for anything good.

"Call you the hero of Kamino, the holo-vids do," Yoda said gravely, confirming Anakin's suspicions.

Anakin couldn't think of anything safe to respond so all he managed was, "They do?"

"Reckless were your actions. Dangerous. Brave. Heroic, maybe."

Anakin couldn't think of anything to say at all.

They were passing by one of the first training rooms. It had been empty when Anakin had passed earlier but apparently, it had been occupied shortly afterwards. By the look of their sweat-drenched hair and skin, the pair of Jedi Padawans that were dueling furiously in it had been going at each other for the better part of the hour.

It seemed to interest Yoda. He paused in front of the plasti-glass doors and watched. Anakin peered as well, intrigued. The two inside were good and they were fighting in an unreserved way that students did when they were left unsupervised.

Besides, he knew them very well.

The blue blade spun once, twice and then stabbed forward with an assassin's precision. It was within a hair's breath of Ferus Olin's nose before his knees seemed to liquefy, causing him to fall backwards beneath the deadly thrust.

The momentum carried his attacker forward and he straightened out his own blade to cut her down. The Force called to her in time, and she sprang up, spinning and turning in the air so that when she landed, she was behind him, her blade already falling.

But the Force must have spoken to _him _sooner. Before her blue blade came down, with him still half bent under it, his own blade slashed in a flick that knocked the silver cylinder from her hand. It spun away, deactivating as it did so.

The shimmering blade pointed at Barriss Offee's livid eyes. "Yield!" Ferus demanded.

_Don't._ Anakin thought, no pretenses about whom he was rooting for. Yoda's ears twitched forward, waiting for Barriss' response.

Rather than answer the command, her hand stretched out and her lightsaber jumped towards her. Caught unawares, Ferus just managed to stretch out his own hand in time. The cylinder shot forward, spinning like a bullet and came to an abrupt halt mid-air right between them, seemingly confused as to where to go.

"_Zanzi_," ventured Anakin to Yoda, referring to the Alderaanian word for stalemate.

Yoda bent over his stick and shook his head silently.

The lightsaber still hovered in the deadlock between the two Padawans. Then suddenly, as they watched, the boy pulled back. Barriss took full advantage of the momentum shift and her weapon spun into her hand. It wasn't enough. Her finger touched the button just as the other blade lifted to her throat.

Anakin felt extremely disappointed.

"Yield!" Ferus gasped again.

Her face was very pale as she deactivated her lightsaber.

The two Padawans stepped away from each other warily and bowed slightly, striving to control their heavy breathing.

"Good form," Barriss said at last.

"You too," Ferus said graciously.

Anakin snorted. Then he quickly turned it into a cough when Yoda looked at him.

Rather he studied Barriss, her slight trembling as she controlled her emotions and tried to force herself back into her usual state of serenity. It didn't really seem to take long.

She had started walking to the end of the room to gather up her things, Ferus behind her. She was shaking her head in response to his compliment. "Not really, but thanks. That was a stupid mistake."

"Which one?" he asked.

She laughed but there was no humor. "Good question. You mean there was more than one?"

"Several, as a matter of fact."

Barriss groaned.

She didn't really seem like someone who had barely months ago, lost her Master, and the closest thing any Jedi, who was not Anakin Skywalker, had to a mother.

"But which one did you first think of?" Ferus said, seriously.

"Not igniting my saber quickly enough," she said as she put on her complicated stola.

Ferus seemed to consider this as he pulled on his cloak. "I would have said trying to retrieve your lightsaber, while a good and valiant attempt, was postponing the inevitable. There was no way you could have ignited it on time. At least not against me, at any rate."

She gave him a _look_.

Oblivious as always to other people's feelings, Ferus didn't notice, already continuing, "From that point on, you were literally fighting a losing battle."

"Perhaps our expert opinion we shall render, eh?" Yoda murmured.

Anakin wasn't sure he entirely agreed. But once again, Yoda's question was rhetorical.

Yoda waved open the see-through doors and entered with his hoverchair and these words:

"Fight a losing battle, one can. But only when one accepts that one cannot win."

The two Padawans seemed to straighten into poles.

"Master Yoda!" Ferus gasped.

"Anakin!" cried Barriss.

It was Ferus' turn to give her a look, a split-second before he bowed to the Councilor. Another split-second later, Barriss followed suit but her eyes caught Anakin's again. "It's good to see you again," she mouthed.

He could feel the smile forming on his face. _It's good to see you too, Barriss. _There was a little more color in her face now, and he could see more clearly the dark shadows beneath her eyes that had not been there a month ago.

There were so many aches – his mother, Padmé, the war. But in the pauses between heartbeats of pain, he had remembered his dear friend and her loss. And he had both ached for her and marveled at her.

How did Barriss remain so serene in her grief?

He gave her another smile, a smaller one before she turned her focus back to Yoda. Ferus favored Anakin with his _look_ and then turned to Yoda as well.

"Impressive your actions were on Thyferra," Yoda told them both now.

It was hard to disguise the shock and pleasure from their faces but Barriss and Ferus tried. It was a credit to Ferus that he managed not to look obviously smug.

"We serve," he said now, that insufferable tone in his voice that grated on Anakin's nerves so.

Barriss should alone have been singled out for praise, Anakin felt. Obi-Wan had told him all about it. She had been amazing.

_And Master Unduli would have been so proud of you. Do you ever think about that?_ He wondered but dared not ask.

"In a practice arena, respected for his good manners, a gracious loser is. But in the battlefield?" Yoda queried.

After a pause, it was clear he expected an answer from them.

Unsurprisingly, Ferus spoke first. "A Jedi is a Jedi always, Master. Even in the battlefield."

"Meaning?" prodded Yoda.

Ferus frowned. "Even in the battlefield, a Jedi must fight with dignity and lose with dignity."

"Appreciate the dignity of this gracious loser, who will? The mindless droid? Perhaps Count Dooku?"

A few months ago Anakin would have found humor in that at Ferus' expense.

Ferus pinkened but Yoda already turned away. It was to Barriss that Yoda directed his last words. "What think you, young Offee? Always a Jedi is a Jedi always? Even in the battlefield, as young Olin has said?"

Barriss' face had gone unnaturally pale once more. There was long pause before she answered. "A Jedi obeys the Will of the Force," her voice was high, nervous. "And if it is the Will of the Force that the Jedi should die in battle, then so be it."

Anakin drew in breath sharply. He could feel the shock on his face, plain to Yoda and Ferus who had turned to look at him. But he couldn't help it.

_Is that what she thinks about Master Unduli? That it was the Will of the Force that she die in battle?_

_Is that _all _she thinks of her Master?_

Could any _other_ Jedi ever know what it was like to feel and love and loss like he did?

Yoda was still interrogating her. "How knows one the Will of the Force in battle? When the blood is hot and closed in on all sides are enemies? Speaks clear and lucid the Force in the rage of battle, Padawan Olin?"

Taken unawares, Ferus stammered out an answer. "W-When a Jedi listens, t-the Force always speaks."

Despite himself, Anakin smirked.

"And when trapped her weapon was between your two minds, to whom did the Force speak more clearly?" Yoda pressed.

They were all silent.

Yoda turned to Anakin who had both dreaded and expected this. "What say you, young Skywalker?"

"I don't know, Master Yoda," Anakin said honestly. That was the best way with Master Yoda. There was no such thing as a simple straightforward conversation with Master Yoda. No matter what he said, it won't have been the right thing. And he ought to have left it at that but…

Ferus was smiling blandly… Yoda's green eyes seemed to bore into his… Barriss' words still echoed in his head…

"But perhaps", Anakin said, almost as if the words had been torn from him, "perhaps, the outcome of the battle itself is the Will of the Force. Otherwise, the outcome would not be possible."

Out of the corner of his eye, Anakin watched as Ferus' grin widened.

Yoda's brows wrinkled. "So win by default, shall the Jedi, since always on our side, the Force is? Then why fight at all?"

Ferus' eyes were gleaming. Barriss' calm face looked like if it was really interested in his answer.

Anakin bit his tongue. It was at the tip of it to say something like: _I never said that the Force was always on the Jedi's side. The Will of the Force may not be the same thing as the Will of the Jedi._

_And there are no victories for the Jedi in this war. With every battle we fight, we have already failed._

But he had barely been in the Temple for one day and this impromptu lecture from Yoda was already wearing down on him.

As if Yoda could read his mind, his green eyes turned away.

"Won you did, young Olin but only because your opponent did not take advantage of your mistakes," Yoda said sternly. "This you know, not so?"

"Yes, Master," Ferus said soberly. "I thought that by disarming her, the duel had ended. Also, I did not effectively dispatch of her weapon-"

"Yes, true," interrupted Yoda, "but not the first error that was!"

Ferus looked puzzled. So did Barriss. Yoda turned to Anakin. It took Anakin a moment to realize that the reason why those translucent eyes were staring at him expectantly was because Yoda expected him to answer.

"W-well," he began cautiously, sneaking a glance at Yoda. The old Master did not object and Anakin continued, "The first mistake he made was letting her get so close to his guard that she nearly took off his nose."

There was almost approval in the wizened face and Anakin grinned inwardly. The look of outrage that Ferus was clearly battling with almost made Anakin laugh out loud.

"And young Offee?"

Anakin didn't hesitate. "She shouldn't have used the Sussk Attack. Its Defence is standard. A Youngling could have deflected it," he added with unnecessary spite.

Barriss colored a bit but she nodded in agreement.

"What else?" prodded Yoda.

Feeling more and more pleased at this unexpected authority, Anakin continued:

"Her footwork needs work. She shouldn't have fallen forward that first time – did you actually think you would slice off his head?" He asked her pointedly.

Barriss looked startled. "Of course not."

"I know that," Anakin said impatiently. "That's why you should have thought about what you would do when he ducked your blade."

She nodded again.

"What think you, young Barriss?" Master Yoda asked suddenly.

Barriss looked surprised. Then she frowned, thinking hard. "I wasn't thinking, really." She said slowly. "I just…" She paused. "…wasn't thinking."

"On instinct, you called? Deep in the Force, you were?"

"Not really," Barriss said carefully. "I had him on the defensive… I was following through…"

"How?" Yoda persisted.

She shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. I guess… I didn't think that far ahead then…"

"Deep in the Force, you were?" Yoda repeated, a significant pause adding emphasis.

Barriss shrugged again. "I don't know, Master Yoda."

There was an awkward pause as the two young men looked at her curiously.

"Commendable you both were." Yoda said finally.

Once again, the Barriss and Ferus bowed formally.

Suddenly, Yoda's mood transformed from benign to enraged.

"But none of you three should be in the practice arena. To rest, to meditate, were you not advised?" Yoda's voice was suddenly loud.

And angry.

All three of them jumped.

"Wars and battles and disease you fight for months! Few days in the Temple you are given to rest and what do you? You duel! You fight! You practice for more wars and battles and blood shed!"

There was pain behind Barriss' usual serenity. Ferus was flushed with shame at being scolded so publicly.

It would have been funny if it hadn't been so unfair.

_Perhaps he is right_, Anakin thought furiously, all but glaring openly at the old Master. _But what right has he to accuse us? We fought those battles on their orders! And he to accuses of preparing ourselves to fight for the ones they will send us to?_

Anakin looked from one to the other – Barriss who had lost the closest thing she had to a mother and was still as serene and polished as any Jedi; Ferus who was such a paragon of Jedi perfection that he managed to feel he was better than every one else.

Neither seemed to feel they deserved better than what Yoda gave them.

_No arguments. No questions. _

_No idea of love… of what it means to lose your love…._

Yoda's piercing eyes held each of them in turn, looking as if he didn't think much of them. Anakin kept his face as blank as possible but still the old Master stared at him the longest. Just when Anakin thought he could bear the scrutiny no longer, Yoda turned away. Imperiously, the hoverchair spun in the air and he swept out of the arena.

The three young Jedi followed in the wake of the old Councilor, Anakin last of them all.

_I am an abnormality in every sense of the word._

_And forever will I walk alone._


	7. Angel of Despair

**CHAPTER VI**

**Angel of Despair**

"The Chancellor welcomes members of the Loyalist Committee: Bail Organa of Alderaan; Orn Free Taa of Ryloth; Darsana of Glee Anselm; Lexi Dio of Uyter; Onaconda Farr from Rodia; Zo Howler of Gravlex Med; and Ask Aak, from Malastare. Senators Padmé Amidala, Ister Paddie and Havriso Looruya are not in attendance. It is the Chancellor's sincerest and most profound regret that he cannot attend this meeting. I, as his aide, will act as his representative."

A stir of unease went through the rich fabrics of the assembled senators as Sly Moore took her seat. Since the Loyalist Committee was formed before the Wars to act as an advisory committee to the Chancellor and ensure that a Republic-wide viewpoint was taken when dealing with the Separatists, Palpatine had never failed to attend a meeting.

"Did the Chancellor give a reason?" Bail Organa asked.

"His Excellency is presently in an emergency meeting with members of the Jedi Council regarding the military situation on Thule."

Thule. The most recent of the battles of the Clone Wars. Reports had come that the Republic had grossly underestimated the size of the Separatists forces located there. Thule was in the Outer Rim; it was likely that by the time reinforcements got to the Republic troops, it would be too late. The holonet news had been carrying the story for days, crying out about an impending massacre of Republic troops and civilians.

"Well, that is understandable," Senator Aak announced brusquely. "We will try our best to carry on in his absence. What is the agenda for this meeting?"

"First on the list was Thule. And what exactly is so understandable about Palpatine not attending this meeting? He dares sideline us on a decision of this magnitude." As always, Senator Farr's translator made it impossible to determine the tone of his voice, or even if the last statement was a question.

"He is with the Council," said Zo Howler. "I'm sure they will advise him appropriately."

"The _Jedi _Council?" Lexi Dio said with cool skepticm. "Unlikely. We had to twist their arms to fight for us in the first place. Stars know only what they're telling him now."

"A Jedi has more wisdom in his finger than you have in your entire body!" Zo Howler roared.

"Or maybe the Chancellor would prefer to surround himself for once with matured adults rather than a bunch of squabbling children!" Senator Aak roared over both of them. "Senators!"

A hush fell at Aak's reprimand.

"Apologies," Zo Howler and Lexi Dio said simultaneously and with identical insincerity.

Aak sighed dramatically. "Now, onto the rest of the agenda. This morning, someone raised the issue of Corellia with me…"

Aak prattled on, clearly more interested with his subtle election as de facto president of this meeting, than he was in Corellia's declaration of her decision to close her borders to both Republic and Separatist. Bail tuned him out, too immersed in his brooding thoughts. Surely this constant bickering wasn't the best the Republic had to offer.

"…the Senator from Cartao will speak in the afternoon session," Onaconda Farr announced.

Bail tuned back in at once at the mention of Cartao. "So Cartao will not declare _Contemplanys Hermi_?" he asked with every show of surprise.

"Not that it would have been any great loss," Orn Free Taa said derisively. "Cartao is inconsequential as Mid Rim worlds go."

That's what you think, Bail thought with an inward smile. Amidala had planned to go to Cartao and, of course, he had known about them all along. It was Alderaani Intelligence that had discovered in time not only Cartao's political flirtations but also the recent advanced cloning technology that was being developed on the planet. If either side had gotten wind of this, the peaceful academic world would have been turned into a battlefield as Republic and Separatist armies fought over the latest game-changer in the Clone Wars.

Nowadays there seemed to be no end of battles over proven and unproven game changers to the Wars. And worlds were destroyed and lives taken to give one side a small advantage over the other. Amidala could only do so much with her personal visits, petitions and constant research, but she was doing more than all the people in this room combined. Bail was determined to assist her in every way he could.

Aak was saying, "Senator Hal arrived on Coruscant this morning. From his Governing Council, he brings a formal declaration of re-allegiance to the Republic. Senator Amidala was a witness to the declaration."

There was another stir. The taciturn Danstarn actually whistled.

"She's on a roll," he said in his usual blasé manner. "When she got Kashyyyk, I thought it was just a fluke. But now it's been three, four… how many systems exactly?"

"Of course we appreciate Senator Amidala's efforts," Aak said quickly.

Bail wasn't sure, but he thought he heard Danstarn snort.

"But," Aak said loudly, "this body hopes it is not too much to ask that she informs us of her plans, attends meetings on occasion and in general, remains on Coruscant long enough to be assessable to her colleagues."

"With all due respect to Representative Binks, of course," Zo Howler sneered.

"Perhaps she's too busy saving the galaxy to attend meetings," Darsana quipped. "What do the Holonets call her now? Angel of Hope? Cliché. But appropriate."

"Her job is to be a senator, not an angel," Zo Howler declared. "She's doing the work of a Jedi and it will end badly for her."

Orn Free Taa added, "Every time she visits one of those worlds, she's putting not only her life, but her personal reputation and the reputation of the Republic in danger."

"Such optimism," Danstarn drawled. "Such encouragement from one's peers. It really baffles one why Amidala can't make time for the likes of us." And he didn't say another word until the end of the meeting.

Which was a pity, Bail thought.

"_Somebody_ has to do the work of the Jedi," murmured Lexi Dio who had obviously come to the meeting for the sole purpose of getting on Zo Howler's nerves.

"What's next on the agenda?" Bail asked quickly.

"Any other business," Aak said dramatically. "Would the Chancellor's representative like to contribute anything at this juncture?"

Most of the senators, Bail included, started. He had completely forgotten that Sly Moore was there. The palely clothed humanoid had been so silent that she had almost become part of the future.

Moore shook her head silently.

"Then, in that case…"

"I have something," Onaconda Farr said.

Aak frowned a little. "Yes, what is it, Farr?"

"When is the Republic going to make a decision on Mon Calamari situation?"

Bail jerked. "What decision?"

"What situation?"

All eyes turned. Framed in front of the large doors stood Padmé Amidala of Naboo.

The first thing that struck Bail was her small she looked. Her dark voluminous robes seemed to envelope her; her white neck and face seemed vulnerable above her gowns. But he looked at her face and the illusion of vulnerability disappeared. Her eyes were hard and strong. There was a force to be reckoned with beneath that graceful smile. He had always known this. It was strange why it seemed to suddenly strike him at that moment.

"Pardon my extreme lateness," Padmé's voice said pleasantly. "If I had received a notice on time, I would have made plans to leave Cartao earlier than I did." She gave a pointed glare at Aak as she swept into the room and took the seat at the head of the round table.

"You weren't in the capital," Aak said defensively. "And you've ignored so many of them in the past, I didn't think it'd make any difference."

"As you are well aware, Representative Binks is always glad to fill in for me during these meetings," Amidala said sternly. Then her voice became gracious, "But I accept your apology."

Aak choked. Bail definitely heard Darsana snort again. Bail himself was smiling as he got to his feet.

"Welcome back, Senator Amidala. We are pleased to hear that your visit to Cartao was pleasant and successful."

Amidala looked taken aback. Then she smiled.

Darsana got to his feet as well and with a flourish, he bowed low before Amidala. Then still standing, he started clapping.

Smiling, Bail joined in. Then Lexi Dio and Farr. Aak, Howler and Orn Free Taa joined in last.

It had been a long time since Bail had seen Padmé so flustered and he applauded harder.

Sly Moore watched on silently.

* * *

The warm welcome was the highpoint of the meeting for Amidala. It went down hill from there. 

"Farr," she said urgently to the Rodian as he stormed out of the boardroom, "you cannot seriously be considering this."

"So as well as vengeful, I am also foolish?" he replied and the very tonelessness of his translator made the sarcasm sting sharper.

"No!" Amidala cried. "Why do you choose to take everything I say so personally?"

He brushed past her without another word, leaving her standing by the doors alone and confused. The other senators poured out. Each greeted her in his own form: Darsana with a formal bow, Aak with a poorly hidden smirk.

Bail came out last.

"How did word get out that I was planning on going to Mon Calamari next?" she asked at once.

"Farr raised the issue of an offensive against Mon Calamari before you had even arrived here. _I _didn't know. It could have been a coincidence…"

"I don't believe in coincidences, Bail."

"Whatever that may be. Farr is one of your allies. Don't alienate him now," he said seriously.

"He's going to raise the matter in the Senate this afternoon, isn't he? What kind of ally is that?"

Bail looked at her gravely. "Did you know of a Jedi named Master Rey?"

She had not expected that. It had come entirely out of nowhere and she had to actually close her eyes and breathe deeply.

_Jedi._ It was just a word. A simple, common, two-syllable word. But the sound of it brought such violent reaction to her emotional chemistry.

"Padmé?" Bail asked, concerned.

"Sorry," she said, forcefully pulling herself back in check. "Yes, I've heard of Rey. She is Iktochi. A gifted pilot. Decorated in the early battles, I think?"

"Was. She died on Kamino. Before the Wars, she sometimes acted as an advisor to Rodian Delegation. She was friends with Farr and his family, had even officiated on his son's wedding."

A cold silver of fear ran down Amidala's spine. A Jedi dying in battle. It was gradually becoming commonplace to hear it every now and then. And it never failed to frighten her in ways she did not want to explore.

Nowadays it frightened her more than ever. She was a Loyalist Senator, was privy to the list of Jedi soldiers dispatched at the various battles. Privy to the accounts of their exploits. Privy to the casualty lists which she scanned every day. The holonet rumors were a vast understatement from the facts. And while the Republic rejoiced in their Jedi heroes, Amidala… was cold. Because to feel might just kill her.

Bail was still speaking. "So you see now why he took your remark on vengeance so personally. And the damning thing is that this information proves you correct _and_ makes his cause more sympathetic. Stars, _I _sympathize with him for this. You've read the reports. You know what's happening at Thule. If I lost a friend, a Jedi close to me…"

"_Don't!_" Padmé cried before she had even known she had spoken.

She had heard the rumors, that Cydon Prax himself was leading the Separatists army. Cydon Prax. Count Dooku's own right-hand champion and a creature of villainous military brilliance.

She _would_ be cold.

He peered at her. "Padmé, are you alright? Your hands are shaking." He took them. She hadn't even noticed they were trembling.

She cleared her throat. "I'm fine." She pushed herself from the wall and took back her hands. It was ridiculous. Barely two hours on Coruscant and she was already falling apart. Ruthlessly, she forced herself back into some semblance of serenity.

"You don't look fine," he insisted. "Padmé, what's wrong?"

"I just had a long trip, Bail," she said rather shortly.

He hesitated. Then he took her hands again. "I'm not talking about just now. You've been … strange for a long time, Padmé."

She laughed bitingly. "Strange? How flattering, Bail."

He persisted. "I meant ill."

"Ill? I assure you Bail, I'm in excellent health."

"Then very, very unhappy."

She tried to take her hands back but Bail held onto them. She looked up at him to see a deep sadness in his face. "We're friends, Padmé, as well as colleagues. Please tell me what's wrong."

Amidala stared at her friend's good, kind face and all she could think was how much his probing words irritated her at the moment.

She smiled warmly, "I'm fine, Bail. Just tired. And look," she glanced at her chrono. "We're already late for the afternoon session. Farr has probably requested for a dozen invasions into Mon Calamari by now." She started walking ahead without waiting for Bail.

A few moments later, he caught up with her. He looked unconvinced but he held her arm as they walked down the corridor together.

As they turned the corner, the door of the antechamber slid open and shut behind them.

* * *

_The ocean raged like a wild animal, a hungry, greedy, thieving beast. It stretched wide its mouth in a mountain-high wave and yawned over him._

"_Save me, Padmé! Save me!"_

"_I can't!" she shouted from her safe harbor. "It's for your own good."_

"_Save me!"_

_She watched on as the wave swallowed his echoing cries._

Amidala jerked awake, trembling badly.

A shrill beep came from the corner of the room and her astromech droid rolled towards her, neon lights flashing anxiously.

Dané was by her side at once. "My lady? Are you alright?"

Instinctively, Amidala waved both away, even as she shook her head to clear away the horrible ache behind her temples. The handmaiden hovered uncertainly as Padmé took stock of her bearings. Artoo fell silent but continued its mournful display of lights.

She was still at her desk in her quarters in 100 Republica. Her draft of the Mon Calamari Reconciliation Plan lay unfinished beside a datapad that linked directly into the holonet feed. Next to them, the chrono told her it was the early hours of the morning.

"My lady?"

Amidala glanced at the datapad. "Anything new?" she whispered.

"Nothing, my lady," Dane said softly. "No word from the Chancellor's office or the Jedi about Thule."

The pain in her head seemed to intensify. "I need a painkiller."

The girl fetched it almost immediately. Amidala took a sip of the water that came with the small capsule and grimaced at the handmaiden's worried face.

"I'm OK. Stop looking so worried."

Dané flushed a little.

The pangs in Amidala's head eased a little. Barely. She closed her eyes and filled her lungs with purified, perfumed air.

"I need fresh air," she announced impulsively. "I'm going for a walk."

"I'll arrange your security detail at once."

"You'll do no such thing. I'm walking alone."

Dané's eyes widened; she opened her mouth and closed it.

Amidala grabbed her coat.

"Mi-milady, I don't think…"

"Then don't," snapped Amidala and she left the apartment.

Beeping frantically, Artoo followed his mistress.

* * *

The walkways of the political district were the highest on the capital. Fashioned out of clear blue stone, they enabled one to see the city below as one walked across. The technical crew had chosen mild rain for that day and the cold wind cut through the flimsy barrier of wire that lined the walk-way and threatened to buffet off Amidala's small figure from the bridge. 

She almost wished it would. It would certainly make everything less complicated.

Wee hours of the morning, no light that was not artificial, but already the city planet was waking up. People passed her as she walked aimlessly, on their way to work, on their way from work. She kept her hood over her head and felt safely invisible in her anonymity. Not far below was a landing platform and she could see from the harried activities of the landing crew that they were preparing for an arrival. She stopped and stared down at the busy crew. It was comforting to know that she was not the only one denied the sleep of the blameless.

It wasn't the first nightmare she had had. They had been coming off and on since… since just after the Clone Wars began. Sometimes she recalled them in clear detail when she woke up, sometimes she only had a vague sense of anxiety. But the particulars were usually the same – a cry for help that she would never answer.

That she might never answer now…

The last word on the situation on Thule was a statement from the Jedi Council. A serene Jedi Master Windu had declared that there was a breakdown in communications with the Army troops stationed there. In other words, nobody knew what was happening there. The Holonet reporters were insisting that the Republic's losses were a foregone conclusion…

Amidala let the cold shield her. She would know. If anything… happened…

Padmé would know.

Artoo whistled soothingly, as he wobbled in her wake.

Amidala rubbed her forehead, trying to massage the ache that the fresh air had lessened but did not eliminate. There were other worries in her life than the unwanted nightmares of her dreams and life: even if those nightmares were connected to memories that refused to die.

As she had feared, Farr had made his request during the Senate session and she had countered it; and now the Senate was divided on the matter. It was a matter for military consideration so the senators could not decide it by mere voting. For that she was grateful. She wasn't sure a vote would have been in her favor. Despite her best efforts to keep her little excursions secret, the media had got wind of her activities and had decided to make her the latest in a long line of poster figures in the Clone Wars. Popularity had its advantages – making people aware that peace and reconciliation was still an option, was one of them. But it had a lot of disadvantages as well. The least was the dearth of security. The worst was the envy and bitterness it engendered in the more petty senators.

Her plain speaking nature, and personal relationship with Palpatine had made her very unpopular amongst her colleagues. With the addition of this new found 'fame', there were plenty in the Senate who would be more than willing to sabotage _her_ efforts, not because of their personal views for or against them but simply because they were her efforts.

The fact that she and Farr shared the same allies was an added complication. Most of them were politely sitting on the fence, avoiding picking sides. Even Bail.

He had promised her information from Alderaanian Intelligence. This afternoon, he had broken their usual protocol and personally brought the first – and probably last report. A report that had only told Amidala things she already knew: the Commerce Guild had been the first contact the Mon Calamari had with the Republic and thus their loyalties would naturally be with the Separatists.

"Perhaps, if you really seek peace, you should let matters remain as they are," Bail had said gently.

"At peace? For how long before the Army invades Mon Calamari will this peace last?"

"I spoke to Aak and Orn Free Taa. If I could convince them to speak to Farr –"

"Pardon me? I must misunderstand you. You've spoken to Ask Aak and Orn Free Taa about this matter? Without consulting me?"

"Amidala, you know as well as I do that your social standing with them is civil at the best of times and your present actions… You need to be careful, Amidala. I'm only trying to protect you."

"I don't need your protection, Bail. And I'm well aware of my social standing with those sycophants. I take a lot of _pride_ in my social standing with them. Do not presume to lecture me on the intrigues of politics," she had said coldly.

She remembered how Bail had blinked. He had looked completely taken aback.

"Is that the reason for this?" She shook the report under his nose. "Is that why this is all you could find for me?"

He had drawn himself up. "That was uncalled for, Amidala. Utterly." And he had walked out of her office.

She had slammed the door behind him.

One less ally.

She had a meeting with Palpatine this morning. A few hours from now, in fact. The first since she had returned to Coruscant. If he asked her to back down from the Mon Calamari issue, she had no idea what she would say in defense.

A particularly strong gust of wind actually threw her a little against the barbed wire. She leaned against it for a while, testing its weight. Artoo whistled in alarm. Feeling completely contrary, she stood upright again and looked for the cause of the gust. The anticipated shuttle was finally coming in to land. She watched the blinking lights as the craft descended. The sun had come up and she hadn't even noticed. It was a hazy dawn in Coruscant.

So vividly did Amidala remember arriving on a morning like this and having her world literally being turned upside down. Once more, she came closer to the wire, watching the shuttle land on its pad while memories of dead friends and happier times threatened to break a dam inside that she had thought impenetrable.

"Sorry," she murmured in the region of her knee; she had bumped into some tiny creature as she had got closer to the wire.

"Indeed, for many things, you are."

Amidala froze. sheArtoo gave a shrill beep. She looked down properly to see the worst of the last people she had expected or wanted to see.

"Fine morning, for a walk, I think not. Cold. Wet. Not as young as they used to be, my bones are."

"So why did you come out?" She felt the words force themselves out of numb lips. Numb body. Numb heart. She was completely and utterly numb with shock.

"With you, very much, I wish to talk." Yoda's eyes blinked wetly at her. "And, maybe, with someone, very much, you need to talk, too."

* * *

She was no longer numb. In fact, she was very much _not_ numb. Her heart was beating with the speed of a podracer's engine and her face was so flushed she knew she was completely red. 

She had known this would happen. It was inevitable; Coruscant was full of them. She had thought she could come back and continue as normal, seeing the brown cloaks and earnest faces, and not constantly associating them with…

She had been wrong.

"Forgive me, Master Yoda. But unfortunately, I need to get back to my quarters immediately. Perhaps we could make an appointment for later in the day." She smiled politely. Courtesy rose more out instinct than desire. Ingrained discipline was the only thing that prevented her from turning on her heel and fleeing.

Yoda nodded in understanding. "I see."

She gave a little bow and turned to walk away. "Come along, Artoo."

The astromech droid rolled in her wake, beeping sadly.

"Angel, they call you. Yes, maybe. Of peace, they call you. No, definitely." He called out the four syllables of the last word as if he were singing a nursery rhyme.

She spun on her heel, bumping into her droid. "What did you say?"

Yoda tilted his head to one side and looked at her as if she were an interesting piece of art that he were analyzing. "Goodness, once? Yes. Still? Yes, even. But too much pain. Too much anger. Why so angry, little Queen?"

"I am _not_-"

"Angry at the Jedi? Friends once, we were. Angry at the Senate? Allies once, you had. Angry at yourself? Padmé once, you were."

This was too much, Amidala decided somewhere in the middle of the red haze that clouded her mind. This was too much. It was bad enough that she had met a _Jedi_, any Jedi. But for this…

A small hand touched the toe of her boot.

"Peace, little Angel," Yoda said softly. "More anger, I wish you not. Help, you need. Ask, you would not, but give all the same, I will."

She took in a very deep breath. Then another. When she spoke, her voice sounded almost normal. "I don't _need _your help, Master Yoda." Once again, she turned to walk away.

"Maybe then, it is _your _help, I need."

Once again, his words halted her. Very slowly, she turned round.

"How?"

"Important, your work is. Necessary in these times, peace is. Jedi work, you do. Help each other , we can."

"I don't do what I do to help the Jedi."

He tilted his head the other way. "Not _the _Jedi, perhaps."

"What does that mean?"

The corners of his eyes wrinkled. Then he hobbled back to the edge of the walkway.

"News, I have. If interested, you are," he said without looking back. "News of Thule."

Artoo whistled sharply.

Amidala felt a spasm of pain in her knuckles. She lifted her hands to see that she had been clenching her fists so fiercely that they were completely bloodless. Pins and needles rushed into her hands when she opened them.

She looked at the small Jedi's back… felt the flush of warmth that had penetrated her armor of ice with his last words… and considered just walking away. She was not ready for this.

"_Angry at the Jedi? Friends once, we were."_

She was not angry at the Jedi. Far from it. For all his wisdom and insightfulness, old Master Yoda was no closer to understanding her than she was herself. Perhaps that was for the best. She needed his help. She was not too proud to walk away from that.

Nor, apparently, was she cold enough.

She gathered her cloak firmly around her and moved to stand beside the diminutive elder. Beside her, Artoo whistled gaily.

* * *

"I'm glad to see you well, Senator Amidala. I had hoped you would see me on your arrival to the capital." 

"I didn't want to impose myself on you. I knew you would be extremely busy."

"You're never an imposition. A visit from you is like a visit from home."

They exchanged pleasantries like two actors rehearsing well-learnt lines. When the first act was concluded, they moved onto the second.

"You were at Cartao, were you not?"

"I was indeed, your Excellency. Not long after I arrived on Coruscant, Representative Binks will return to Cartao from his sojourn in Kashyyyk."

"I spoke to the Senator himself a few days ago. He has only praises to sing of you."

"The senator is very kind."

"Kind and honest. You cannot imagine the pride I feel, seeing you fulfill the potential that only I had seen so many years ago. How far you have come since your oath-swearing as a young legislator."

"Thank you, your Excellency. You too are too kind."

"And very proud, indeed. Your labors of reconciliation are not unnoticed. I only wish to understand why you have chosen to attack privately on this matter, and not come to me in confidence."

The script had become less familiar to both of them. She followed his cue, studying his lines, both spoken and unspoken, in order to know her own.

"Perhaps I feared that confidence in you may have translated to request for approval. And with all due respect Chancellor, a refusal is something I would not have been willing to risk."

"Yes, I understand clearly now. But you need never fear disapproval from my office, Amidala. You cannot imagine how much I support your cause, the message that you spread. Gradually, it'll bear fruits in the hearts of the people of the Republic and they will once more be reminded that war is not the only way to solve a dispute."

"That is my wish, your Excellency, as you well know."

"A wish that should be fulfilled by every means possible. I only fear for the present time. For the dangers you constantly expose yourself to in these tasks."

"We are living in dangerous times, your Excellency. Times that will become even more dangerous if my message is not spread."

"Ah yes. More dangerous indeed…"

Now came her cue to begin the second act.

"So you do understand the argument to resist an immediate military offensive against Mon Calamari: at least until it is ascertained that a more diplomatic solution cannot be found?"

"Of course, I do! _I _am your ally here. But others will, indeed _are_, questioning this decision. Why show special favors to Mon Calamari? Why hold back the might of the Republic against this one world when so many others alike to it are being crushed every hour of every day? What answers then, do you suggest I give them?"

"I have none, your Excellency."

And here, the script went completely out of the window.

Palpatine looked at her with utter silence. He was not so much shocked as he was quickly calculating what her motivations were. He had expected an argument, well-rehearsed, backed up with facts and idealistic philosophies. This quick acquiescence was not in her character at all. There was something else going on here.

His silence was her cue to continue.

"The facts are undeniable. The history between Mon Calamari and the Separatists dates since before the War. The Commerce Guild was Mon Calamari's first contact with the Republic and the two have maintained strong economic and political ties since then. Mon Calamari has no personal loyalty to any world of the Republic. The odds against her ever being a true ally of the Republic are very high."

"Your opinion surprises me. I thought that you believed in diplomacy before and above any other option."

"I must be pragmatic. There are so many other worlds, Chancellor, who would be more amenable to reconciliation than one who has already turned its back on the Republic. It would be wiser, I think, to direct my energies in saving those who want to be saved."

It made excellent sense and for a moment, as she said those words, Amidala almost believed it.

Palpatine did not for one moment.

"So you have dropped your argument against the invasion?"

"Not entirely. Let it remain in the records that if a decision is ever made against an invasion on Mon Calamari, I, Senator Amidala, would willingly go and ask for peace."

"Battles are being fought every day. It might take some time before a decision is made on Mon Calamari." The warning was unmistakable.

She bowed humbly. "I leave that to your Excellency's good wisdom."

He watched her with narrowed eyes, trying and failing to see what she gained from this move. "Now you flatter me, my dear. My best decisions could not have been reached without the wisdom of my advisors, your own self included." He bent his head in a courteous bow of dismissal. "Thank you so much for your company and insight."

"Thank you, your Excellency."

The third act had concluded. As the actors rose to leave the stage, one decided that there would be an epilogue to this play.

"Forgive me for asking, but have you recently been in contact with our dear friend, young Anakin Skywalker?"

Silence.

"Of course not. He's been fighting non-stop at the front almost since the Wars began, hasn't he? He has become quite a hero in these battles."

"Yes, it would seem so."

"I spoke to him recently, before he left for Thule. He asked after your good self."

"Did he, your Excellency?"

"Yes, he did. Such a personable individual, young Skywalker. Growing up to become quite a force to be reckoned with. It would be a great pity if the Republic were to lose him."

Never had it been so hard to make a perfunctory statement.

"Yes, it would."

"The sacrifices of the Jedi…" A heavy sigh. "Thank the stars that neither of us will ever have to share in their noble burdens."

Silence.

"Have a pleasant day, milady."

"Good bye, your Excellency."

He watched her go with a satisfied smile on his face. She closed the door behind her and walked quickly down the corridor, her eyes bright and hard.

* * *

The blue image of the Jedi Master, now Republic General, flickered in time with the small 'booms' of explosions that could be heard in the background. Apparently unperturbed by the backdrop of violence, Obi-Wan Kenobi spoke calmly into the transmitter that relayed the feed to Coruscant: 

"When do you want us on Mon Calamari?"

The scholarly silence of the Archivist's inner offices made it almost possible to distinguish the individual sounds and explosions that resounded from the far reaches of Thule. Across the table on which they placed the holo-transmitter, the three Jedi shared identical looks of concern.

Master Windu replied, "Twenty-four hours. But we can send another team if that becomes impossible. You look _busy_."

Obi-Wan grinned. "We're not. They're defusing the minefield. Thanks to Anakin, the battle ended a lot sooner than we anticipated." There was no disguising the affectionate pride in his voice. Until a few hours ago, a Republic defeat on Thule had been a foregone conclusion. "We could be on Mon Calamari in eight hours but there's a little problem. I had planned for Anakin to return to the Temple as soon as this mission is over. He needs medical treatment."

Windu asked, "What's wrong with Skywalker?"

Jocasta asked, "Is he alright?"

Yoda asked, "Hurt, is he?"

They had spoken at the same time, leaning forward anxiously in their chairs. Obi-Wan paused, taken aback, before he replied, "His mechanical hand was injured by a blaster shot from Cydon Prax. Anakin's patched it up but I've noticed it's still malfunctioning."

A simultaneous sigh of relief was shared by the other three.

"How serious is the injury?" Windu asked.

"It's functional. It certainly didn't stop Anakin from dispatching Prax effectively," Obi-Wan said wryly. "But I think it should be fixed properly as soon as possible."

Windu and Yoda exchanged meaningful glances.

Master Windu said, "Very well then, but he needs to accompany you to Mon Calamari and meet your contact first. After a few days, he returns to Coruscant. You join Knight Bant at a rendezvous point and you will team up with her for this mission. These are the co-ordinates." Windu punched the figures into the data transmitter that was hooked up to the holo-vid. "You'll land near a small town by name of Salma. Your contact is Sir Tanu, a Mon Cal and a Knight of the Order of Mon Calamari."

"Order of Mon Calamari?"

Jocasta Nu spoke up. "A legendary group of Mon Cal soldiers. They existed long before Mon Calamari was discovered by the Republic, in the old days when the Mon Cal and their sea-dwelling cousins the Quarren fought for dominion over the planet. Neither race could conquer the other; and the civil war went on for millennia. When the Commerce Guild made contact with Mon Calamari and introduced her to the Republic, they formed a strong alliance with the Quarren and tipped the balance. A truce was forced between the two races, with the Quarren barons essentially in power."

"That is why no Mon Cal has ever taken a seat in the Galactic Senate," Obi-Wan said in surprise.

"Exactly. The Quarren Isolationist League has been the only political party in Mon Calamari for millennia. The Order of Knights became become little more than a cultural traditional in modern times -- a social group that remembered the bloody days of earlier times."

"Until now," Master Windu said. "We believe that they have resurrected their old ideals and have started training, gathering arms and forming an army. Over the past few days, we've made contact with a few of them. They've made it clear that their loyalties do not lie with the Republic."

"You want us to go there and train them to overthrow the ruling party?"

The two Jedi Masters exchanged glances. Jocasta Nu adjusted her bun.

"Not precisely," Master Windu said at last. "Primarily, your mission is that of espionage. You will be given identities as refugees from a world invaded by the Separatists. That would enable you to move a little freely within the populace. You will observe the Knights and the strength of their army; you will find out what you can about the strength of the Mon Calamari Army and how closely they are controlled by Separatist leaders. You will find out the loyalties of the people. And you will report all this back to us."

Obi-Wan nodded. Then he shook his head. "I'm sorry, Masters but I don't understand. What exactly are we looking for?"

Yoda tugged on his ear. "Know you will, when you find it. Until then, follow orders you shall."

Was it their imagination or was there a look of annoyance on Obi-Wan's face before he bowed? "Of course." His voice sounded humble enough, though.

"There's one more thing," Windu told Obi-Wan now. "Senator Amidala might be on Mon Calamari shortly. The Jedi are supporting her. Watch over her from afar and protect her if you need to. But do not make contact with her. Remember: nobody outside this room is aware of this mission."

"I see," Obi-Wan said slowly. "And when will she arrive?"

"We're not sure. As a matter of fact, we're not completely sure she will be on Mon Calamari."

"There, she will be," Yoda said firmly.

Obi-Wan looked worried.

"Concerned about your Padawan and Senator Amidala, you are."

A boom distorted the signal so it could not be ascertained if the expression that had hovered briefly on Obi-Wan's face was annoyance, pain or worry. "Forgive me, Masters. Anakin and Senator Amidala… they have a complicated history. Perhaps while I am on Mon Calamari, it would be best if he remained in Coruscant or went on to a mission of his own. He has proved himself more than capable in tactics and leadership."

Once more, Windu and Yoda exchanged meaningful glances.

Yoda said carefully, "Right indeed, you are. Long has young Skywalker been in the battlefields. Chosen One, he is, but a young Padawan he remains. A few days of healing, of calm introspection, he needs. A short respite, he will get in the Temple. "

"And afterwards?"

There was silence.

"Won't it even be awkward entering and re-entering Mon Calamari in its present situation?"

"An appropriate cover, you will devise."

Obi-Wan pressed on. "As a matter of fact, Anakin is not entirely suited for this mission. He's becoming too popular to be effective undercover."

"Same problem, some may say you have. Well trained, you both are. An excuse, that cannot be."

Obi-Wan looked unconvinced.

Yoda's eyes were stern on the young Master. "Run away from his fears, young Skywalker cannot continue to do."

"Anakin doesn't run away from anything," Obi-Wan said at once. "His prowess in the battles has been nothing short of remarkable, yet still he has kept his soul. He does not like fighting, he never will, and he has rebelled vocally against the idea of Jedi as soldiers. But he does his duty and more every time."

"Greater fears, there are, than death."

Even through millions of lightyears of static and the sounds of a dying battle from Thule, Obi-Wan's sigh was audible. "I know. It's just that… Masters, Anakin is trying. He's changing. It doesn't seem fair to test him too quickly."

"Understand, we do," Yoda said softly. "Not lightly, will a decision be made."

"Thank you, Masters." There was no denying the skepticism in Obi-Wan's voice.

There was an uncomfortable pause.

Yoda said finally. "To your battle return, and we to our own. May the Force be with you."

"May the Force be with you, Masters."

The blue image flickered and vanished.

Jocasta Nu stood. "If I can be of further assistance…"

"Of course," murmured Windu, watching her go. When he turned back, Yoda's eyes were on him.

"Tell, I can. Doubtful of this mission, you are."

Windu looked at the older Jedi squarely. "Yes, I am. I admit that I am as confused as Obi-Wan of its purpose. What new information could we possibly get? Senator Tundra Dowmeia was never Palpatine's ally. There's certainly no mystery there. Shouldn't we leave the senators to decide the best option to take here?"

"According to Dooku, in control of the Senate, is the Sith."

Master Windu paused, apparently taken aback by the other's argument, but he recovered quickly. "You believe Dooku's assertion?"

"According to _you_, a close eye on the Senate, we Jedi should keep."

"Perhaps in this case, I happen to agree with the opinion to invade," Windu admitted. "It's very unlikely that Mon Calamari could ever come back to the Republic of her own free will."

Yoda looked at the younger Jedi with sad eyes. "Sense it, do you not? Mon Calamari's importance?" At Windu's surprised look, Yoda's eyes turned earnest. "Look into the Force. Does it not tell you?"

The younger Master closed his eyes and a look of intense concentration passed over his face. Yoda waited, eagerness written over his own wrinkled features.

A few moments later, Windu opened his eyes again. He shook his head.

Yoda sighed.

Windu said simply, "All I sense is that we are about to commit to this reconnaissance mission, two Generals and an exceptional Padawan from the dwindling number of Jedi soldiers that fought every day at the battle front."

"Your mind that is, not the Force!" Yoda said sharply.

The other shrugged. "I know, Master Yoda. The Force told me nothing." Before Yoda could speak again, Windu shook his head, forestalling Yoda. "But it told _you_."

Windu stood up and bowed low before the oldest Jedi. "And that is enough for me and for every Jedi in the Republic."

Yoda's eyes darkened with grief.

* * *


	8. The Calm…

**CHAPTER VII**

**The Calm…**

_The Battle of Thule ended yesterday with a victory for the Republic Army under the leadership of General Kenobi. But it is unlikely that the victory could have been achieved without the intervention of his faithful partner, Commander Skywalker a.k.a. 'Hero without Fear'. Details are sketchy at this point but it is rumored that the Hero without Fear defeated the nefarious giant Cydon Prax, known associate of the infamous Count Dooku and leader of the Separatist forces, in one-on-one combat. Thanks to the effort of the Hero, Thule has been restored to the Republic and a great blow dealt to the Separatist Army. _

_In other news, as Mon Calamari continues to remain open to the media and asylum-seeking refugees from various parts of the galaxy; valid reasons for the proposed pre-emptive strike on Mon Calamari diminish. In the recently concluded Senate session, Senator Amidala of Naboo, a.k.a 'Angel of Peace', locked horns semi-figuratively with Senator Onaconda Farr over the need for a strike. Recent poll results show that a small but increasing number of Senators is of the opinion that peaceful co-existence could be a better option. Could the Senate be finally acknowledging the Angel's efforts towards reconciling the warring factions of the Republic? _

"Senator Amidala and I have had many discussions on this matter and with all due respect, I fail to appreciate the great significance that has been placed on this one Outer Rim world." As tired and gentle as Palpatine's voice sounded, its implacability was undeniable.

"In the Force, of immense significance, _all_ worlds are." Meek as it was, the rebuke was in Yoda's voice undeniable.

Barriss studied the carefully controlled expressions on her Masters' and the Chancellor's faces and sighed inwardly. When the small group of Jedi – Master Yoda, Master Windu, Master Mundi and Barriss Offee – had arrived for the special audience with Chancellor Palpatine, the room had been bright with the afternoon light. Now, shadows were gathering amidst the red tones of the Chancellor's chamber. Long hours had passed but the topic of conversation – whether to send Republic troops to Mon Calamari – was yet to be resolved.

She stood as still as a pillar behind Master Windu but inside she struggled with feelings of impatience and unease – and shame at those feelings. She should be delighted that Master Windu had requested that she accompany them for this private meeting. Impatience at the time spent from her Healing training – even though time in the Temple to study had become rare since the Wars – was unJedi-like. And unease was a failure to master her anxieties.

It did not help that the setting in the Chancellor's office reminded Barriss forcibly of another meeting she had attended not so long ago. Then the Jedi and the Senate were still trying to reconcile the extent of Jedi participation in the wars. Of course, that first meeting was a larger setting and the Loyalist Committee had been present, but in both cases Barriss had been invited by Master Windu in the absence of her own Master.

_(breathe out pain, breathe in peace)_

Also the impressions in the Force during both meetings were almost identical. Barriss, like most of the other Padawans, had been finding interpreting intangible sensations in the Force harder and harder as the Wars raged on. But even she could sense the conflict and discord – and distrust – in this room right now.

It was Palpatine who broke the silence.

"No one appreciates more than myself the progress that Amidala has made towards reconciling erring systems back into the Republic. If this decision were up to me, I would bow to her wishes and the wisdom of the Jedi with no further argument." His voice was deep with remorse. "But emergency powers or no, I am still accountable to the Senate."

"Onaconda Farr is hardly the entirety of the senate." Master Mundi said.

"Nevertheless, his opinion is held by the majority."

"Senator Farr has been a friend of the Jedi for a long time. Surely, if we could persuade…"

"By all means, do your best. I have spoken to him about this matter privately and, I believe, so has Amidala. Indeed, it is a pity that she did not prevent him from raising the issue in the Senate in the first place. As matters stand now, even if he were to change his opinion tomorrow, the harm has already been done. The majority has been convinced of the need for an attack and they will keep demanding for one."

Barriss agreed. Senator Ask, for one, would be only too glad to take up the debate against Mon Calamari if only for the occasional mention of his name in the holonet. He was being mentioned, almost as frequently as Onaconda Farr, as the champion for the 'defensive strike' on that world.

"So it is the Senate majority that is insisting on this invasion?" There was no disguising the soft skepticism in Master Mundi's voice. "A _decreasing_ majority if the polls are any indication?"

Palpatine looked at him squarely and his eyes became cold. "Senate sessions are not held behind closed doors, Master Mundi. Since you hold my words with such little faith, you may sit during a session and see the truth for yourself."

Barriss blinked. There was a nasty pause after that. The Force almost seemed to flinch.

"Chancellor," Master Windu said carefully. "Master Mundi does not doubt your words. None of us do."

Palpatine's face relaxed a little.

Mundi added, "We only wonder why you seem so decided that the Senate would never choose the option of non-violent reconciliation."

Palpatine gave him an incredulous look. "You've heard Onaconda Farr's arguments."

Master Windu replied, "Yes, the army of Mon Calamari dealt us an underhanded blow in the battle of Kamino. I know. I was there. But that battle was months ago. Most senators have never shown more than a passing interest in the nitty gritties of the war. It's hard to understand this new-found zeal for payback."

Palpatine waved his hand with an exasperated gesture as if the idea had plagued and irritated him as well.

"Do you really need to ask, Master Mundi? Politics, why else? Amidala has always had her detractors, even amongst her allies. They gathered steam during Geonosis and then lost it since she's started her peacekeeping mission. Now that she's made this appeal for Mon Calamari, they want to seize this opportunity to undermine her work." He shook his head. "It all comes down to politics."

"What could they possibly gain from making the Army invade Mon Calamari?" Mundi insisted.

"Absolutely nothing," Palpatine said with a bland smile. "But it would be Amidala's loss and unfortunately, that's all the gain they need."

It was the sickening truth and Barriss could see it on the faces of her Masters. She was no novice to the cut-throat nature of galactic politics. She had accompanied Master Luminara

_(breathe out pain, breathe in peace)_

on more missions with ugly undertones of political vendettas than she could count.

The Galactic Senate was a hive of some of the most vengeful sentients in the galaxy and the Naboo Senator with her idealist, charismatic personality had been making enemies of her colleagues for as long as Barriss could remember.

It was not unimaginable that a bruised ego or two was fundamental the reason for this sudden insistence on the invasion of Mon Calamari.

Jedi would be sent there, of course, as Generals and Commanders of the Army…

_(…to lead the clone soldiers to victory or to die trying)_…

to do their duty, as the Jedi must always.

"They don't really care about Mon Calamari or her loyalties. They don't care about the lives that would be lost if we turn that world into another battlefield," said Palpatine, almost as if he had read Barriss' mind. "It's a means to an end. In the Senate, egos bruise easily, grudges form readily, and vengeance is served as cold as the mountains of Hoth."

The small hairs at the back of Barriss' neck were standing. She had never heard the Chancellor's voice so bitter. It wasn't a pleasant sound.

"In this time of war, more division, the Republic does not need," Master Yoda said quietly into the darkness.

"The war hasn't changed the Senate, Master Yoda," Palpatine rasped. "It's just changed their weapons."

Darkness was accumulating in the room; darkness to match the mood. The Force was elusive once more. Barriss couldn't make any sense of the fragments of emotions and thoughts that floated in the room.

The three Jedi Masters exchanged inscrutable glances. A moment later, the lights came on.

Master Windu let his hand drop. "The day is far spent and it doesn't look like if we will come to a unanimous agreement on this matter, Chancellor," he said politely.

Palpatine heaved a sigh. "No, it doesn't, does it?" he said, ruefully. In the harsh artificial light, he looked paler and older than ever.

"Depends that does, on how you see it," Master Yoda corrected. "A decision not reached together, nevertheless, is a decision still." There was a firmness in his voice, a resolve. Even the Force seemed to sense it, and the ancient Master, small and shriveled, seemed to swell with his authority.

The Force-blind Chancellor must have felt it too because he gave the old Councilor a sharp look. "What do you mean, Master Yoda?"

"Simply this: chosen, the Jedi have, to forestall invasion on Mon Calamari until complete, Senator Amidala's mission there is."

It was not a question for debate. And everyone in the room was aware of it.

"I see." There was no pleasure in Palpatine's voice.

"Surely, you see the wisdom of peaceful reconciliation over a victory of bloodshed?" Mundi prodded.

"Of course, I do. It is the _Senate_ I am worried about. They will not see things as clearly as I do."

"But you speak above the Senate. Your emergency powers overrule the Senate's decisions in all matters concerning the war."

Palpatine gave them another incredulous look. "Masters Jedi, with all due respect, do you honestly believe that the Senate would allow me to keep these powers a moment longer if they thought I was using my authority in defiance of their wishes?"

Anakin was right, Barriss marveled. The Chancellor was no fool.

"Not if you addressed them appropriately. Senator Amidala has never failed in any of her peacekeeping missions. There is all hope that she will not fail in this one."

"Convince the Senate," Windu insisted. "And in this, you have the backing of the Jedi."

The Force swelled with anticipation. Whose, Barriss had no idea. But whosoever it was, it was close to desperate. The very air seemed to still.

In the next pause that followed, she studied all their faces. Master Yoda's ancient, thoughtful visage; Master Windu's was stern and unreadable; Master Mundi's: intelligent, calm; and Chancellor Palpatine's was old, grave and worried.

"I have the backing of the Jedi?" he asked at last.

Mundi opened his mouth to speak but Master Yoda cut in first. He was watching Palpatine with narrowed eyes.

"In _this_."

The air shifted. The Force breathed.

Palpatine smiled tiredly. "Of course."

A type of still moment seemed to pass between the Jedi Masters; it was like currents of water under a thick layer of ice.

Barriss looked on, not understanding at all.

* * *

"_Of course."_

Sidious recalled his words to the Light-Bearers. Recalled the timbre of tiredness, of defeat in his voice. Rage was bile in his throat, thick, bitter. He almost choked on it.

The Jedi were hiding something from him. Something about the situation on Mon Calamari. He had sensed it all throughout their conversation. They had been on the brink of revealing some vital information and at the last minute, in that sudden shifting of thought beneath the layers of the Force, they had chosen to keep silent.

There was a reason for this sudden secrecy and it enraged Sidious.

First the people. Then the Jedi. Even Amidala's detractors in the Senate were not as vocally against her campaigns as he had expected them to be. Her arguments were compelling. Given time, the balance in the Senate would shift in her favor.

"_What does not kill you makes you stronger."_

He had thought so almost a full year ago. And there was still truth in it. Driven by pain, motivated by despair, and Padmé Amidala had become more dangerous to him than she had ever been.

He imagined her laughing now. Smiling in her sleep. She had acquiesced so easily during their last meeting because she knew she had the Jedi in her pocket. The thought of her mocking him made him retch. Bile fouled the rug, burnt right through it.

His fist clenched and he imagined crushing her soul.

_It would be so easy._

In a second, he had sunk deep within himself. Sheer malignancy gathered in the air like thick black smoke. Thicker… thicker… Thick enough almost to be substantial. It was like a dense, pointed spear of malevolence and he sent it flying, flying, flying through the boundless realm of the Force.

Deep in the night, Padmé Amidala cried out in her sleep.

_Too easy._

At the last moment, the spear spun from its target, and kept spinning until it found its mark in another innocent aura.

A young Rodian aide, working into the late hours of the night would be discovered dead the next morning.

The Darkness swelled and receded. Anger still raged within the Sith Lord. But it was a cool anger. Sweet and patient in his serpentine mind.

Death was too easy. Too good for her. She deserved a destruction more… refined, more… total.

He reached for the secret holo-transmitter that he only ever used as Sidious.

* * *

"_Are you ready, Kinu?" _

"_Yes. Where' s Linti?" _

"_She went into the village. Is Father Ben coming?" _

"_Maybe. Let me see if he's awake." _

Soft footsteps approached his bed. Obi-Wan groaned and clung harder to his feather pillow. The footsteps halted.

"Good morning, Ben. Good bye, Ben," Anakin's voice said cheerfully. The footsteps started retreating.

Obi-Wan groaned again.

It was so tempting to just let Anakin go on that note. There were parts of Obi-Wan's body that would probably be still aching even if he slept at a stretch for a full standard year. He had been in so many battles in such a little space of time that very possibly, he was expending his muscles faster than even superlative Jedi regenerative powers.

Anakin's voice filtered in from quite some distance. "Let's go."

A thicker alien voice answered, "OK."

With one final groan, Obi-Wan got to his feet. Drowsily, he pulled on his boots and the white single robe that was part of his disguise. Feeling distinctly underdressed – three days and he still was not used to the security of his full robes – he stepped out of the hut he and the other three shared and into ankle-deep water. Obi-Wan stifled another groan. Mon Calamari was an ocean world, very similar to Kamino. The few reef terrains were essentially sandy beaches covered by a few centimeters or so of water – a fact that non-indigenes in general and Obi-Wan in particular found quite uncomfortable.

"_Ben!"_

The shrill call came from a small Mon Calamari female child. He tried to remember her name – _Tansu?_ – before she jumped on him with a squeal.

"Ben! Ben!" she cried and hugged his neck. Her cold, slightly damp body wrapped itself very tightly around him.

Obi-Wan was both touched and extremely uncomfortable. "Hello, Tansu," he said, supporting her with one arm as he tried to release her chokehold on his neck with the other.

She held on tighter. "Kinu is going today!" she wailed into his ear. "He said I should take care of you!"

Kinu was Anakin's alias. Linti was Bant's. Ben was Obi-Wan's. Ben, his son, Kinu and their friend, Linti were a group of refugees from Thule. An excellent disguise, especially as Obi-Wan and Anakin had just completed a mission there and were very familiar with its territory and cultures.

"Did he?" Obi-Wan asked. He held her awkwardly and looked around for a rescue. Anakin and Tanu, the Jedi's contact on Mon Calamari, were nowhere in sight. The surrounding huts and neatly cleared yards were bereft of movement and noise. The Mon Cal hamlet of Salma was clearly still asleep. A few children playing near the sea were the only signs of life. The residents of Salma were mostly fishermen and boat-builders and lived a peaceful, simple existence.

"We're not soldiers," Tanu had told the Jedi when he had first introduced them to the small group of Knights that met in secret each night to practice. "But when those who are supposed to defend us insist on selling us to our enemies, we have no other choice."

"Tunsu, come here," said a voice behind Obi-Wan.

_Tunsu_, Obi-Wan mentally corrected as he turned with relief. Tanu's wife and the girl's mother was coming out of her tent. She stretched out for the child. "I need you to give your father his meal."

Tansu – Tunsu – shook her head and held onto Obi-Wan tightly. He choked a little which she either did not notice or chose to ignore. "I promised Kinu I'll look after him."

"I'll look after him while you're gone."

It took a little convincing but Tunsu finally slid her cold body down from his neck and with a last dubious backward glance, ran off to find her father. Obi-Wan held his throat gingerly.

"Thanks," he said when he could finally talk.

The mother smiled. "I'm sorry. She's a very affectionate child and now that Kinu is gone and left you in her charge, she'll fixate on you. I'll do my best to keep her out of your way."

"No, it's not a problem at all," Obi-Wan lied easily.

"You'd better hurry if you want to catch your boy before he leaves. I hope your cousins will be okay," she added gently.

"I hope so, too," Obi-Wan said carefully and with a courteous wave, he took off. A few meters beyond the cluster of huts led to thick forest. A footpath led through that forest to a glade which substituted very well for a sizeable landing pad, where the Jedi's vehicles were kept.

Family in Thule that he hoped to find on a nearby planet was the excuse that Anakin had given for going off-world. Only Tanu, and a few of his fellow Knights of the Order of Mon Calamari, knew that the three foreigners were Jedi. Even Tanu's own family didn't know.

Anakin had raised the matter with Tanu. The Padawan was concerned that Tanu and his soldiers were apparently keeping their secret lives from their families.

"We don't want to upset them," Tanu had said.

"I thought you said that the war was inevitable," Anakin had said quietly. "The first thing you told us when you got here was that we were standing on the brink of a civil war. You asked us when we would bring the rest of the army."

"The fact that this war will soon come is the reason I want to keep my family protected for as long as possible."

"By deceiving them? In the long run, lies never protect. They only create deeper wounds when they're finally revealed."

"Kinu…" Obi-Wan had said warningly and that line of conversation had ended rather awkwardly.

Anakin had never liked undercover work. He thought it demeaning for a Jedi to pretend to be something other than what he was. And he hated lying, hated deceit of any kind.

That didn't stop him from doing the job excellently. No holonet reporter would have recognized the 'Hero without Fear' as the somewhat simple-minded lad that made friends with all the Mon Cal children. Anakin had slipped into his alias so naturally that even Obi-Wan who had come to expect extraordinary things from his Padawan was thrown.

"At least, it is better than being in the battlefield," he had answered when Obi-Wan had brought up the topic. Just one more paradox to the enigma that was Anakin Skywalker. The wars were turning him into the hero that he had always dreamed of becoming. And he hated every moment of it. It both surprised and delighted Obi-Wan that his Padawan simply refused to take pleasure in his victories.

"The reporters see a glorious victory," he had told Obi-Wan once in Thule one night as they waited to ambush the enemy. "I see a body count. That's not what I want to be remembered for."

_Yet you do it so well and so recklessly. If you don't take risks for the glory of victory, what do you take them for? For death? Do you hope to fail?_ Obi-Wan had wanted to ask. Instead he had held his peace; and he had let his constant worry about Anakin's recklessness continue its slow but steady devouring of his soul.

Obi-Wan could hear low voices up ahead. He lifted a branch and stepped into the clearing. He had arrived just in time. The foliage that had been used to camouflage their two vehicles had been removed from one of them. Of course neither vehicle was a Jedi or Republic craft but one could not be too careful. Anakin was already in the cockpit.

One of the younger Mon Calamarian Knights, Re, was checking something at the rear of the vessel while Anakin talked to Tanu who stood beside the pilot's side. There was an earnest expression on Anakin's face that seemed to dim when he looked up and saw his Master.

_What now? _

"Father Ben! I thought you were asleep." Even here where they were supposed to be relatively safe, Anakin still kept in character.

"I was. Until you woke me." Obi-Wan smiled cautiously. He turned to Tanu. "Blessed day."

"Blessed day," Tanu said in greeting. He was a tall, imposing looking Mon Cal, and a descendant from a very famous champion amongst the old Knights. His lineage was evident from his impressive personality. "And a good day for flying. I spoke to our people at planetary control. You have a window of an hour to get out of Mon Calamari without being sighted."

"Excellent," Obi-Wan said.

"Tanu was just telling me something very interesting," Anakin said casually. Too casually. Obi-Wan looked at him warily.

"Really? What?"

Tanu answered, "Our people in the Governing House overheard Senator Tundra discussing with Coruscant. It looks like Senator Amidala has persuaded him to give her immunity to come here."

"Really?" Obi-Wan said, trying to show the proper level of interest while Anakin's eyes bore into the side of his head.

"I don't think Senator Tikkes is aware yet," Tanu continued. "When he does, he'll be furious. He still thinks he's the Senator of Mon Calamari, not Tundra. Which is stupid of him. It's thanks to the both of them that Mon Calamari no longer has a seat in the Galactic Senate."

"Yes, it is."

"Tanu, please can you give me a hand?" Re called from the rear.

"I'll be right back," Tanu said to Obi-Wan and Anakin; he went round to see what Re was up to.

Leaving Obi-Wan with Anakin.

"Tunsu said you told her to take care of me," Obi-Wan said carefully.

"That's nice." Anakin's eyes refused to meet Obi-Wan's. He raised his hand to pull down a start-up lever only for the limb to jerk violently. He winced and switched hands. "Cydon Prax," he cursed under his breath.

"I think you still wound up luckier than he did," Obi-Wan said casually while he strained all his senses for any trace of anxiety from his Padawan. "And you're definitely lucky that blaster shot didn't go into your left hand. The sooner you get that hand fixed the better."

He could sense very little. Of anything. Anakin seemed to be shielding very fiercely.

His Padawan's voice was carefully neutral as he said, "If you want to know how I feel, it would be quicker to just ask."

Obi-Wan shook his head ruefully. At least he hadn't sensed anger. Yet. "Forgive me. Old habits die hard."

"You should have just told me the truth," Anakin said quietly.

"I didn't lie," Obi-Wan said honestly. "Your hand needed to be fixed and you needed rest."

"And _her _planning to come here had nothing to do with anything."

"It's not really been a secret. You would have heard something about it if you paid any attention to the holonet news."

"I don't and you know that well enough." His voice still wasn't angry, just sad.

"Anakin…"

"Tell me, _Ben_. Was this part of the mission brief?"

Obi-Wan hesitated. Then he answered truthfully, "Yes."

"So somehow, you managed to tell Linti and keep it from me?"

"I was going to tell you. I just… needed to know first if she was ever going to come here."

Anakin just looked at him. There was really no way to know what he was thinking. "Is it part of our mission to protect her?"

"Only if we have to."

"Is she in danger?" His voice was very, very quiet.

"She shouldn't be. She's coming her with diplomatic immunity so that means the Mon Calamari will protect her while she's here. The worst that will happen is that they'll tell her they're not interested in returning to the Republic and send her on her way." Obi-Wan tried a smile that he did not feel. "She's a great deal safer than us."

Anakin sighed deeply. Through the thick shields he had cast around himself, a very faint sense came to Obi-Wan.

Disappointment.

Obi-Wan's heart ached.

"You're clear!" Tanu shouted. He and Re moved away from the back. Re smiled at Obi-Wan as he wiped his hands on his robes, "Blessed day, Ben."

"Blessed day," Obi-Wan replied automatically.

"Thanks, Re, Tanu," Anakin said. He turned to Obi-Wan; his eyes were shuttered. "I'm glad I'm going to Coruscant if that's what you want to know."

"That's not…" But Anakin had already turned his attention to the controls. Obi-Wan tried to find the words, tried to find what he could say to his Padawan to prevent him from slipping away. Again.

A strange and new friendship had sprung between both men over the long months of the Wars and their shared battles. Without their knowing it, the relationship between the insubordinate Padawan and long-suffering Knight had been gradually replaced with something simpler: a camaraderie of fellow soldiers, of equals, maybe even of friends. Anakin talked to him, really _talked_; and for once, Obi-Wan listened; sometimes vice versa.

They had come such a long way. If he, Obi-Wan, had thrown it all away because of some misguided sense of protectiveness…

"Anakin, I'm sorry," Obi-Wan declared. He didn't care that Tanu who was standing at his shoulder, looked at Obi-Wan with some curiosity.

Anakin looked up from the buttons he was punching into the nav computer. Pure surprise shone in those startling blue eyes. "_Ben_, my ears are malfunctioning. I could have sworn I heard an apology?"

"You did."

Obi-Wan tried to communicate his earnestness with his eyes. With the Force, through their bond. Anakin hardly let him in anymore but sometimes…

There was a tiny spark of warmth from his Padawan's end of the bond.

Anakin shook his head. Looking rueful, he asked, "Who are you and what have you doneThere was definitely humor there! Obi-Wan laughed in relief. Anakin looked away.

The laughter stopped at once. "Anakin…" Obi-Wan tried for the third time.

"I need you to protect her."

Obi-Wan felt his heart tighten. "I will."

"And I need you to trust me, Ben."

Obi-Wan felt his heart lighten. "I do. Believe me, Kinu."

Anakin nodded. Then he smiled. It was there very quickly and then it was gone. But it had been there. Anakin had smiled.

And the warmth had not faded.

"May the Force be with you, Father Ben."

"May the Force be with you, Kinu."

Anakin raised his hand in salute to Tanu and Re and they saluted back. The exits to the two-man shuttle closed; the sub-engines started. Tanu and Obi-Wan backed away. The grasses flattened under the wind as the shuttle lifted. Obi-Wan caught one last glimpse of his Padawan's sad face and then he and the vessel were out of sight.

The Jedi Master stood there, watching it go for a long time.

"Fine son, you have there," Tanu said gently, watching Obi-Wan's face.

Obi-Wan smiled. "He's not really my son."

"Isn't he?" Tanu asked softly.

Obi-Wan tried to find words to respond to that. There were none. Anakin's graciousness had overwhelmed him. Anakin's pain had humbled him.

It ought to have been a small thing, compared to his incredible feats in battle and his recent conquest of his temper but… his Padawan never ceased to surprise him. After that debacle over Amidala, Anakin had promised Obi-Wan to be a better man, a better Jedi and so far, he had kept his word to the letter.

Perhaps, it was time for his Master to stop being surprised.

* * *

Senator Tikkes, former Galactic representative of the planet Dac a.ka. Mon Calamari, had given the Separatist leader his castle on Coral City to reside in during his impromptu visit. It was an architectural spectacle of native coral and transparisteel that towered above the surrounding landscape almost as greatly as it extended down into the sea. 

The human stood on the Eastern balcony, a black pillar against the blue skies. His eyes were skyward, searching the empty clouds for something only he knew was there. Commander Merai, decorated high-ranking officer of the Mon Calamari Navy, was not a cowardly amphibian, but it was with some trepidation that he approached Count Dooku of Serenno.

The Mon Calamarian coughed subtly.

"Yes, Commander Merai?" the Count asked, turning at once. His Mon Calamari was not the elegant dialect that was taught by Coruscant linguists, but the thick guttural dialect of the inner clans. He literally spoke Merai's own language and the Commander was automatically at ease.

"Dowmeia Tundra has issued an invitation to Senator Amidala of Naboo," Merai announced. "As you requested, we did not interfere."

"Well done, Commander."

Merai, seasoned veteran as he was, puffed a little with pride. The simple praise from the Count more than compensated for the earlier shouting match with Senator Tikkes. The senator had been against the order, insisting that Amidala's presence on the planet would incite an uprising. Merai hardly thought so. Whatever success the Naboo Senator had achieved elsewhere, a mere human, even a female one, could harldy turn a child of Dac against his world. Merai was a soldier, not a politician; and although he considered Senator Amidala a glory hound of the worst kind, he hardly classified her a security threat.

"You would do well not to underestimate Senator Amidala as a warrior," the Count said. Merai started. It was not the first time this human had literally responded to Merai's thoughts but it never failed to unnerve him.

"A remarkable woman," Count Dooku continued. "I look forward to continuing an old conversation with her. At the very least, it would be interesting to hear what she has to offer this world in exchange for its loyalty to the Confederation."

Merai said sharply, "Absolutely nothing."

The human just smiled.

Irked, Merai declared curtly, "A report just came in from our inland spies. Your intel was confirmed, my Lord. A group of Jedi did come on world ten nights ago. They've been located in Salma on Pal Island."

"How many?"

"Three. Identified as General Kenobi, General Tachi, and Commander Anakin _Skywalker. _"

The man raised a querying eyebrow. Merai stared stonily. He had done his best to roll out the names with a curtness that was characteristic of his profession. But the name _Skywalker_ was like poison in his mouth.

Merai never forgot the name of an enemy, and the thought that Skywalker had dared set foot on Dac, after what he had done at Kamino…

That Jedi was very lucky that Merai had found out his presence too late.

"Skywalker is here?" Count Dooku asked.

"_Was_ here, my Lord," Merai said curtly. "He left shortly afterwards."

The human clenched his fists so suddenly and so fiercely that all his knuckles cracked.

"Sir?" asked Merai, surprised.

"Skywalker left here just before I arrived?"

"Approximately four hours before, yes."

The man slowly unclenched his fists.

"You met him in battle, didn't you?"

The question threw Merai. "What?"

"Skywalker. You fought Skywalker on Kamino." There was an odd light in the human's eyes.

It took Merai a moment to find his voice. "You saw my report, sir," he managed.

"Yes, I did." The Count was staring at him. Merai was no expert on reading complex human mannerisms but even he knew that there was something unnatural about the look on the Count's face and that glare in his eyes. Then Merai blinked his own large yellow orbs and the strange look had gone.

"What else do you have to report?" Count Dooku asked and his voice and expressions were so normal that Merai wondered if he had imagined the last moment.

"The Jedi have made contact with a Mon Cal named Tanu and his band of suspected guerrilla fighters."

"You mean the Mon Calamari Knights," the human corrected. "It is as I suspected. The Jedi will try to stir up an opposition from within first before they bring in their Army." He smiled. "I know their methods well."

"Should I have them killed?" Merai asked abruptly.

"Too hasty. The Republic desperately wishes to invade Dac. They don't need a sympathetic reason."

"So we'll just let the Jedi remain here? Leave them to turn our own people against us?" Merai demanded, his voice rising. General Kenobi had fought on Kamino. Yes, he had coordinated ground defense and had had no direct engagement with any of the Mon Calamari ships… But that was a mere technicality. He would have done as much as Skywalker if not even worse if he had been assigned differently.

There was no honor amongst the Jedi. Merai saw no reason to suffer their presence on his world for a moment longer.

The human seemed to read the Mon Cal's mind. "_Ha'a'ba_. Let us be patient, Commander."

Anger rose in Merai. The native entreaty moved him in a way that he did not like. The Count did not understand. He had not been in the battle. It was not his people, soldiers whom he was sworn to protect, who had been killed while he stood powerless to stop the assault…

Count Dooku walked up to him and laid a smooth flesh hand on his shoulder. "I share your pain, Commander Merai. Your losses on Kamino… Horrifying. That the Jedi would kill living sentients to save _clones_." He shook his head.

"But we must be patient. No battle was ever won by reckless action," he insisted and his voice became hard. "And vengeance is not our primary agenda here. We are not going to stoop to the level of the Jedi who cloak their selfish schemes under the supposed nobility of their actions. I too have lost friends. Remember Cydon Prax?"

Merai nodded. Who could forget the reptilian giant that was the Count's majordomo? Anakin Skywalker had killed him, too. How could Dooku not seek revenge?

Once again, the human seemed to read Merai's mind. "This War is bigger than that. Bigger than you and me. Your soldiers went into battle knowing fully well the consequence of their actions. But they went into it all the same because they believed in a worthwhile cause. If we win this War only to become like the ones we fight, then those who died on Kamino died in vain."

Merai did not trust himself to speak. There was calm passion in Count Dooku's words and they pierced through the rage in Merai's mind. Slowly, the anger subsided, leaving behind shame. Merai bowed his head. As always, the Count's insight was flawless. Merai felt himself a fool for ever questioning his wisdom.

"You do trust me, don't you, Commander?" Count Dooku asked, gently.

Merai's head snapped up. "With my life!" he shouted, upset.

"Then _trust_ me."

Merai nodded. Once again, his voice seemed to have failed him.

"Thank you." There was no mistaking the gratitude in the Count's voice.

There was a short pause while Merai collected himself. Dooku looked away until the Commander spoke again. "Will that be all, my Lord?"

"Just one more thing, Commander. I'll be expecting a visitor soon. An unmarked shuttle. See that the pilot gets unrestricted access to me."

With one last bow, Merai left.

The Count of Serenno returned to the balcony and his contemplation of the skies.

* * *

The stormy waters of the Northern Calamari Ocean parted gracefully as the small shuttle closed in to land on the sub-sea platform. Lord Tyranus, Dark Lord of the Sith, watched the small figure in grey-brown robes alight from the lone cockpit. The setting sun cast a dancing pattern on the figure's head of shiny hair. 

When they were younger her hair had been the color of a young sun at high noon. The two children had their special place in the Archives where they studied together. It was in the East, beneath the large portviews and he remembered how in cool evenings, the light would dance on her hair and distract him. Then, he had been six and she seven.

Now she was past eighty and her hair was the color of an old moon at midnight.

It still distracted him.

He watched until the figure disappeared from view and then proceeded to wait impatiently. Minutes later, the large native coral doors of his chamber flew open. He had expressly warned that this visitor should not be announced.

"You're late," he said at once when the silver caught his eyes coming through the huge doors.

Jocasta Nu, Head Archivist of the Jedi Temple, former member of the Jedi Council, legendary Jedi warrior and accomplished Jedi scholar, gave him a withering glance.

"I came as quickly as I could. What could possibly be so important that we could not talk via holo proj?"

"I needed you here two days ago," Tyranus hissed.

She recoiled slightly. She recovered quickly but he saw it. A tiny sensation of satisfaction worked its way around his distracted mind.

_Good. _

Weakness - even to _her_ - was a luxury a Sith Lord could ill afford.

"I'm here _now_," she snapped. "And I won't be for long. So tell me." She sat across the table from him. All the furniture in the room was made of coral shells, carved in the curves of seashells and waves. She looked years younger in the graceful setting and he remembered a time long ago when…

_Weakness._

He trained his eyes at her, staring her down until he could almost read her heart. "Have you betrayed me?"

Her face whitened. Then without a word, she got to her feet, turned on her heel and started walking away.

In less than one step, he was between her and the door.

"I asked you a question, Jocasta."

Her eyes narrowed. He supposed they would frighten the inquiring Padawans in the Temple. Maybe even some of the younger Masters. But him?

"Get out of my way, Yan or - "

"Or you'll what?" he mocked.

Her lips tightened and she glared at him.

He stared her down, feeling the Darkness swelling inside him. The urge, the need to squash down every little weakness within… It intoxicated.

Her face turned away and Tyranus was triumphant. He permitted himself to touch a single strand of that silver hair. Soft, silky, it was like touching a moonbeam. "I had to ask, Jocasta," he said soothingly, generous in his victory.

She snatched her head away. "Don't touch me," she snapped. She walked away, back into the room.

He could almost taste her powerlessness. She was not going anywhere. And it was not because she was afraid.

Although, she was that, too.

Tyranus smiled. "Skywalker left a few days ago. Right after I arrived. It's almost as if he knew. And you're the _only_ one who knew I would come a day before schedule." His voice hardened despite himself.

"Makes perfect sense," Jocasta retorted. "Except that _I_ told you he would be coming here in the first place."

Tyranus shrugged. "Trust is a luxury I can ill afford."

There was a long silence after that. He could feel the emotions coming out of her and he found them unpleasant. And inconvenient.

He walked up to her - she flinched as he approached but didn't move - and rested his hands on her shoulder. She felt like duracrete.

"Help me, Jocasta," he beseeched, softly, soothingly.

Almost instantly, her body seemed to melt against his hands. He permitted himself one moment of indulgence and buried his face in that smooth, silky hair.

"That's what I'm doing, Yan," she said quietly. _Against all wisdom_.

He didn't need to read her thoughts. He _knew_ them.

"He's like a phantom," he whispered into the silvery hair. "Everyday reports come in from everywhere. And it's always one name."

Every General, Commander, Captain, Smuggler and Bounty Hunter under his command had all reported the same thing. Anakin Skywalker. A Padawan, a mere child, working alone, had somehow bested his carefully laid out plans. Arrogant, impetuous, dangerous… If Tyranus had not already hated this Jedi child for the designs his Master had on him, then Skywalker had certainly gone out of his way to give him fresh cause.

"They call him the _Hero Without Fear_," he murmured.

"You're obsessed with him."

He smiled into her hair. "Jealous?"

She struggled against him; he kept her there effortlessly. "Calm yourself, Jocasta. My interest in Skywalker will end when I finish the job I started on Geonosis." _And this time, there will be nothing left to attach a cybernetic limb to._ "And besides, obsession is a state of my mind that only you possess," he added dryly.

She made a loud sniffing noise but she stopped struggling. He doubted if she had really wanted to leave.

They stood like that for long moments before she gave a deep sigh.

"I heard what happened to Cydon Prax," she said softly. "I'm sorry."

Tyranus let the pain strengthen him. "Cydon knew the risk he would be taking, leading the army on Thule. He was a good, loyal servant. But he killed in battle and he died in battle. It is not vengeance I seek, Jocasta."

"Then what do you seek?"

"You can't possibly understand."

"No, I don't. But I'm trying, Yan. I've been trying for a long time. You can at least meet me half way."

When he didn't answer her, she added, "You know about Qui-Gon's role in the boy's adoption into the Jedi."

It was his turn to stiffen. "I am aware."

"Yan - " Her voice was beseeching.

He flung out of the embrace and it was his turn to walk away from her. "Your time is short. If you have a report to give me, I suggest you do so quickly."

She left not long after. Her eyes were angry and cold as she stepped into the shuttle. He watched the silver hair glinting in the sunlight until it disappeared into the craft. And even then, his eyes followed it through the glass until it disappeared under the helmet. She was angry at him. As she had been since they were children and for as long as he could remember.

She would be back.

That was power.

No matter what the Sith Lords thought, real power was not to own people by fear and intimidation.

No matter what the Jedi thought, real influence went beyond the waving hands of a mind trick.

Real power was to own people by loyalty. That way you didn't bind them with chains. They _gave_ you the chains.

Just like a few moments ago with Merai. With nothing but empathy and reasonable words, he had persuaded a sentient from the atavistic pursuit of revenge.

_That_ was power. That was what Sidious and the Jedi were still trying to understand.

On cue, the COM link on his wrist beeped.

Tyranus froze in mid-thought. There was only one person in the entire galaxy that used that frequency. He took a moment to secure the room. Then, anticipating the sensation of slithering reptiles crawling over his aura that always accompanied a conversation with his Sith Master, he switched on the holoproj.

* * *

Late afternoon Coruscant sunshine slanted through the tall windows of the Senator of Naboo's residential office, bathing the room with a lovely golden haze. The room's sole occupant, and the Senator in question, was oblivious to this effect. She was bowed over her console, her fingers flying rapidly over the keypad as she prepared an elaborate proposal, part of the new Mon Calamari Reconciliation Plan. Next to it lay the elaborate scroll that had arrived on Coruscant this morning. It bore the seal of the Office of the Galactic Representative of the World of Mon Calamari; and it offered her an invitation to visit Mon Calamari and an accompanying grant of political immunity. 

Even Farr had found nothing to say when she had presented it during the Loyalist Committee meeting.

After the meeting, Palpatine had wished her a safe and successful trip, his every word oozing with pride and concern. Amidala had thanked him graciously and wondered what the Jedi must have done to have won Palpatine over to her side.

And to have made him so furious.

Well, that was the least of her concerns. What bothered her now was that she was not as prepared as she would have liked to be. The Jedi had given her useful information on Mon Calamari's background, but it was nothing that wasn't available in any academic archive. Her own people had found nothing new on Mon Calamari; then again, Naboo Intelligence simply did not have the proficiency of Alderaan. But since their disagreement, she was yet to hear from Bail or his contacts. Apparently, as he could not protect her, he had chosen to protect himself.

Apart from a faint sensation of disappointment, Amidala could not care less. Armed with whatever arsenal she had, she was going to Mon Calamari in three days' time. She could hardly wait to leave Coruscant. How she had endured staying this long was beyond her.

It was a moment before she noticed Dané leaning hesitantly in the doorway. The girl cleared her throat delicately.

"A transmission came in for you just now, milady."

"A transmission from where?" Amidala asked impatiently, without glancing up.

Dané coughed. "It was classified."

Amidala looked up. Her handmaidens knew better than to pass on anonymous messages. There was only one category of classified messages that warranted her attention.

"Bring it here at once," she ordered.

Dané fled.

Amidala reclined in her seat, proposal abandoned as she contemplated this new development. Alderaani Intelligence had found useful information on Mon Cal. That was the only explanation. Bail had come through in the end.

Heat stained her cheeks and she covered her face with her hands. Her head hurt. The headache she had been nursing for the days had taken a particularly bad turn the night before when she had actually woken up in crippling pain. But that was pain of a different kind and it paled to how she felt right now.

_Pull yourself together. So you owe him an apology. Stop looking for excuses to fall apart. _

Stars, but she couldn't wait to leave this planet. That encounter with Yoda had been the last straw. The last of painful, constant reminders of things she would prefer to forget.

Dané announced her return with another cough. Amidala removed her hands and watched the girl dully. The handmaiden's movements as she entered the room were deferential to the extreme. Her reluctance to stay in Amidala's company was obvious and completely understandable. Amidala knew she'd been working relentlessly lately and the long hours were making her short tempered. She couldn't blame Dané for lacking enthusiasm when it came to speaking with her.

"Put it through." She tried to smile, doing her best not to sound irritated. Dané nodded and left.

The small holoproj on Amidala's desk flickered as the holo came up.

It was an Intelligence report. But it wasn't what Amidala had been expecting.

For the first few seconds, the projection was grainy. Then it dissolved into the face and shoulders of a Bothan that Amidala had never met. But she could tell from the criss-crossed robes he wore that he was a Jedi.

"_What have your scans revealed?"_ he asked his audience.

Then the project seemed to grain up. Amidala tapped the proj and the image re-formed.

"_Scans show no significant lifeform readings and no one has been found alive. We've received no communication from the colony of any kind,"_ Sio Bibble said.

Amidala almost gasped out loud. She could see nothing but the back of the chair in which the Governor of Theed sat, but she knew exactly where he was. The small image of the chair upon her desk appeared ghostly blue, but she remembered well the richness of the wood grain and the pearly inlay. In her mind she could see to the left of it, out the window that overlooked the great waterfall that cascaded beside the palace offices. Next to that window would be a marble statute of Perri-Teeka, an original, carved long before she had been born. Amidala knew his office by heart from the days when he had been her advisor. It felt like a lifetime ago since she had been Queen of Naboo.

"_And the task force? What did they discover?"_

The image of the Jedi reappeared again. It seemed to be a recording of a holo-transmitted conversation. How Alderaani Intelligence had got hold of this, Amidala did not care to know.

"_The task force assessing the situation believes it was some kind of contamination, a chemical poison in the water, but they can't find any trace of it now,"_ Sio Bibble replied. His voice was distorted in the recording but the deep sorrow in it was unmistakable.

Amidala felt her headache intensify.

"_The disease is spreading. Symptoms of the infection have been noticed on the planet surface. We beg you to send aid."_

"_We'll dispatch a Jedi team right away,"_ the Bothan said. _"We'll launch a full investigation."_

"_Please hurry. The entire colony of Otoh Nass has been destroyed. We can only hope that we find someone - anyone – alive. The mining facility isn't responding either."_

The last words were almost swallowed by the burst of static. Amidala watched in a painful daze as the rest of the recording became unintelligible. Of course: standard Alderaani Intelligence data pre-configuration. The disc was self-destructing. Nevertheless she had heard enough.

Ohma D'un was one of the three moons of Naboo. The colony of Otoh Nass was the home to thousands of Gungans.

Or, if what she just heard was true, Otoh Nass had been the home to thousands of Gungans.

Padmé sat, motionless for several seconds, staring blindly at the wall ahead of her.

Dané found her like that several moments later when she came in to the office.

"My lady, are you all right? Are you having headaches again?" There was concern in her voice.

_Thousands of Gungans. _

Very, very slowly, Amidala turned to stare at the girl. It took a few seconds to process the fact that as Dané had no idea of the holocaust on Ohma D'un, the girl's question was completely justifiable and thus, neither a sign of the most inhuman insensitivity nor of unnatural insipidity.

"My lady?" Dané asked again, nervous under her mistress's heavy gaze.

_No significant life form readings._

Amidala shook herself. "I'm fine, Dané. Please, go and inform Dormé and Captain Typho that we will be leaving for Naboo within the hour." Automatically. Without a second thought. But there was really nothing else she could do.

This news had to come as a surprise to the young handmaiden, but to her credit Dané's face remained carefully blank.

"Yes, my lady." She replied, inclining her head respectfully before turning to do her mistress's bidding.

_Thousands..._

Amidala stared at the ashes of her ill-omened messenger, shock and pain radiating from her in quiet waves.

**

* * *

**


	9. When Danger Strikes Home

**CHAPTER VIII**

**When Danger Strikes Home**

The Supreme Chancellor's office hummed with tension. Masters Windu, and Mundi sat stiffly in otherwise comfortable chairs facing the man himself. On the desk two holos flickered with hazy turquoise light. One of them was speaking.

"Are they sure?" Council member Shaak Ti asked from her post on Brentaal's fourth moon.

"Reasonably sure." Mace Windu replied. "We've just dispatched a Padawan team to investigate."

"A _Padawan_ team?" Master Ti didn't bother to mask her surprise. "I know we've been shorthanded, but we might have been able to spare Master Leni'i -"

"The council believes this team can handle the situation. Olin and Offee have already proven themselves, especially in the area of biological weapons."

Shaak Ti inclined her head respectfully, apparently more comfortable with the choice now that the Padawans in question had been named.

The other holo, Master Aayla Secura, nodded as well. Newly dispatched to the Aereen system to put an end to open hostilities, the Twi'lek Jedi had other matters on her mind.

Their reports already given and their updates received, the two holo-Jedi signed off.

Chancellor Palpatine turned to Master Windu. "You know of my preference to send Padawan Skywalker on this mission."

"Indeed, I do." Mace replied blandly. "However, the boy's been on active duty for months now and more than deserving of rest and meditation. The council is concerned that he will not find those things on Naboo."

Cerean master Ki-Adi-Mundi dissented unexpectedly. "But don't we all? Besides, his relationship with Padawan Olin has always been strained, even under the best of circumstances." He continued in his gentle baritone. "Perhaps sending them together on assignment might help. In the absence of their masters, relying on each other would become a matter of necessity."

Master Windu found it difficult to fault the wisdom of his comrade's suggestion. "It is true that their rift needs to be resolved." He asked chancellor, "What of Senator Amidala? Is she any part of handling the situation on her homeworld?"

The Chancellor appeared surprised by the question, but his answer was smooth. "Matters have moved quickly on Naboo and the possibility that this was a military strike is highly classified. Queen Jamilla specifically requested that this information be kept from Amidala. I too saw no reason to inform her at this early stage. Of course, if the Council wishes, I could see to it she is told at once."

"No, that won't be necessary." Mace Windu pressed his fist thoughtfully to his lips. He wished Yoda was here to decide this. His sidelong glance met Ki-Adi-Mundi's and the Cerean gave a slight nod. "Very well." He acceded. "Skywalker will go to Naboo."

Though Palpatine's expression only hinted at his pleasure, Mace's dark gaze didn't miss the flash of satisfaction that flared in his eyes. He resolved to discuss that fleeting perception with Master Yoda later in the privacy of the council chambers.

Master Windu stood, turning to his fellow Jedi. "I believe Ferus and Barriss are ready to depart?"

"Yes." Ki-Adi-Mundi replied, rising from his seat. "All they lack is our permission to leave. I'll see to it that Anakin is informed at once so he can join them." He nodded to the leader of the Republic before making a quick exit.

Master Windu turned back to Palpatine. The politician's eyes met his but there was nothing behind the piercing gaze. Anything that had been there moments before was gone.

"Good afternoon, Chancellor." He gave the usual formal farewell.

Palpatine returned only the slightest nod as the Jedi Master turned and left.

''

Anakin Skywalker boarded the shuttle with uncharacteristic ebullience. His mood was good despite the fact that he'd been up most of the night working on his prosthetic arm. The adjustments and upgrades made at the med-center yesterday had been successful. As usual, though, he'd taken it upon himself to make a few off-the-record improvements. It was now functioning at what he felt was peak efficiency. In fact, when it came to strength and quickness, he'd have to say it was working better than his flesh and blood limb. And none too soon, either. 

When Master Mundi had come to his quarters just a scant half hour ago to tell him about the situation on Naboo, he'd been seized by a strong sense of anticipation even before the Jedi Master had confirmed he was, in fact, being sent there.

The prospect of an introspective, meditation-filled week at the temple had brought with it nothing but fear and trepidation. Yes, fear. It seemed like an extreme word to use when applying it to one's own thoughts, but there was no other word more accurate. He had been dreading having all that time to reflect and think. Too often it led to drowning in regret...

This mission was just what he needed to keep the shadows of the past at bay. Of course, it involved going to Naboo, where so many of those shadows originated, but perhaps this would be a good thing. He felt more sure of himself, more centered, more a _Jedi_, than he ever had before and this new Anakin needed to lay those old ghosts to rest.

He walked from the boarding ramp directly to the cockpit where Ferus sat making pre-flight calculations in the pilot's chair.

"Good morning Ferus!" He clapped a hand on the other man's shoulder. "The council decided that a decent set of piloting skills might be an asset to this mission." He smirked. "In other words, they're sending me along to make sure you get to Naboo in one piece."

A burst of feminine laughter from the adjoining compartment softened the smirk. He hadn't seen Barriss yet, but he could sense her presence nearby.

Ferus gave a long-suffering sigh before looking up at Anakin. "The Council just sent word you'd be coming, along with their permission to depart." He stood, his expression carefully neutral as he pushed the wayward streak of blond hair out of his eyes. "They didn't mention piloting, but I'll gladly leave that job to you. It'll give me a chance to review the mission facts again."

He slid over and dropped into the co-pilot's chair, motioning for Anakin to take the one he'd just vacated. Anakin slid down into the seat, his focus turning immediately to Ferus's flight calculations. He swiftly made adjustments to the coordinates. There. That would shave at least an hour off their travel time.

He felt Ferus watching him but sensed none of the annoyance that usually radiated from the older Padawan.

"Was the med-center able to fix your problem?" Ferus asked, nodding at Anakin's gloved hand.

Anakin found himself oddly appreciative of the other man's straightforward approach. Other Padawans, and even some of the Knights, were usually reluctant to bring up the subject of Anakin's prosthetic limb. Instead of dancing awkwardly around the subject until he could find a way to work it into the conversation, Ferus had simply asked outright because the answer was critical to the success of their mission.

"Yes." Anakin replied bluntly. He had intended to leave it at that, but surprised himself by elaborating. "In fact, it was an easy fix once they located the right parts. After that, I was out of there under an hour."

Ferus nodded again, then turned his attention to the datapad on the console in front of him.

"Hello Anakin." Barriss greeted him warmly as she entered the cockpit. "I'm glad the Council decided to send you with us." Looking back over his shoulder, Anakin took quick note of her wide smile and was glad to see her face no longer bore the pinched look of exhaustion it had after their last meeting.

She took the seat behind Anakin, the one closest to the scientific analysis console, and leaned forward to place a hand on his shoulder. It was Barriss's way to touch; a means of connecting to those she called friend. Anakin noted the way Ferus's eyes narrowed at the gesture.

He felt the other man's displeasure in the split second it took for Ferus to master the negative emotion.

Anakin filed the surprising reaction away in his memory. He'd drag it out later and see if he could make sense of it. For now he needed to get this mission underway.

After receiving clearance for takeoff from the Temple's flight command center he moved the Jedi recon shuttle to the departure runway. In moments they were streaking out of Coruscant's atmosphere.

Moments later a ship docked in a nearby parking slip - a modified _Firespray_ class pursuit vessel - set its own course for Naboo. Rising from the closest public dock to the Jedi Temple, it carefully followed the ion trail of the recently departed shuttle until the signature dissipated, before blasting into hyperspace.

''

Padmé Amidala felt the small shudder signaling that her pilot had just cut in the ship's sublight engines. Coming out of hyperspace could only mean one thing. Home. Naboo. 

She took a deep breath and popped the data chip out of the small port on her desk. The holo screen upon which she'd been studying documents and treaties governing Ohma-D'un shrank to a pinpoint of light before disappearing completely.

As she stood, she smoothed the skirt of her dark brocade traveling gown.

As if on cue the hydraulic door to her compartment whooshed open. Dormé and Dané entered garbed in only slightly less elaborate dresses of the same rich material.

"The captain is requesting clearance to land on Naboo." Dané's announcement confirmed Padmé's suspicions.

"Excellent." Amidala responded by favoring the girl with a slight smile. "We should inform Her Majesty that we've arrived."

The two handmaidens stepped closer as Amidala activated the holotransmitter on her desk. Her private summons was answered quickly. Within moments the small shimmering blue image of Queen Jamillia hovered over the desk.

"Greetings Senator." The Queen didn't hesitate long enough for Amidala to return the salutation. "I just received word of your arrival. I was quite surprised to hear that you were coming to Naboo."

Amidala kept her eyes focused intently on the Queen. Of course, Captain Typho would have made sure they were expected.

Her reply was carefully measured "I realize the decision was sudden, but as soon as I found out about the situation I knew we had to come." There was more than a hint of accusation in her words.

To anyone else Jamillia's carefully painted face would have appeared expressionless, but Amidala, well schooled in the art of gauging subtle nuances, could see displeasure in her barely perceptible frown.

"Had you requested permission, I would have asked that you remain on Coruscant." Jamillia's carefully modulated voice faltered. "That would have been my _official_ response."

So it was true then, Amidala realized, her heart quailing. She didn't realize until now how much she had been holding on to a vague hope that the clandestine message had been a malicious ruse to delay her from visiting Mon Calamari.

"Then it is good I didn't ask." she replied firmly. "I've never been able to stay away when our people are in danger regardless of how little informed I am kept," she added pointedly.

Jamillia sighed but there was no contriteness in her voice when she answered, "I should order you back to the capital. I only have _one_ trusted ear in the Senate, one person that I know will place Naboo's peaceful interests above all other concerns. " She paused, then smiled a little. "But now that you are here, I'll tell you I'm glad of it. My advisors have been reluctant to admit this situation is as serious as it seems. Governor Bibble and I deliberately opposed them by ignoring their advice and contacting Coruscant for aid."

Amidala had suspected as much. It was the way of the Naboo to handle their own problems without outside interference. The situation must truly be grave for Jamillia to act against her own council.

"It's true then? Otoh Nass has been destroyed?"

Jamillia nodded an affirmative. "Our task force returned with the report that they found none living in the entire colony. The smaller, outlying colonies are the same."

Amidala's eyes widened. "The information I received was conflicting. It mentioned a chemical poison, but also a spreading infection."

"We've been unable to determine the nature of the attack. It spread so fast… but the data analyzed so far seems to point away from virus or bacteria."

"Intelligence sources indicate the Separatists have been experimenting with both chemical and biological weapons."

The Queen nodded, her painted face once more inscrutable. "I'm afraid that seems the most likely possibility. The Jedi intervention we requested from Coruscant should arrive soon. Hopefully they will be able to confirm if this was an act of war."

"Your Majesty, I would like to organize a search and rescue effort." The search teams hadn't found anything alive, but she'd seen survivors pulled from devastated areas that had long-since been written off.

"Senator Amidala," the Queen's return to formal address told Amidala that her wish would not be granted. It would be pointless to argue. "You know I can't allow that. We can't tell how contagious this infection could be. And if this is a deliberate attack, the moon might not be safe. I – no, _Naboo_ can't afford to lose you."

Amidala started to protest, only to have the Queen cut her off.

"You can land at the palace or maintain orbit until the Jedi arrive. Once they've solved the mystery behind this tragedy we can renegotiate our plan of action."

Although she understood the Queen's concerns, Amidala was annoyed at being told to sit and wait. Time was crucial in any rescue effort. She tried to erase all traces of irritation from her face as she obediently inclined her head. "Yes, Your Majesty."

"Padmé, my friend," Jamillia spoke softly, her voice losing its imperious tone, "I know your heart is with the victims of this catastrophe, but I can't allow you to jeopardize your life. Even if Naboo could live without you, even if the _Republic_ could, your family and I cannot." The gentle smile she gave seemed awkward behind her mask of paint.

Stubborn defiance struggled to overwhelm her understanding of the Queen's position. From Jamillia's placating tone Amidala knew her expression must be reflecting her internal conflict. Nevertheless, her reply was respectful. "I will do as you have asked."

Jamillia nodded gratefully and signed off.

Slowly Amidala dropped back into her chair and in a quiet whisper added, "for now."

Dané and Dormé stared at each other worriedly.

''

The Jedi shuttle flashed out of hyperspace within sight of Naboo then quickly and efficiently dropped into a comfortable glide just above the planet's atmosphere. From the pilot seat Anakin stared down at the swirling white clouds obscuring the vivid green-blue of the planet surface. 

Though he'd seen hundreds of worlds in the years since he'd left Tatooine, and though he wanted desperately for Naboo to be just another of those worlds, he couldn't ignore the familiar tug on his heart. Naboo always felt like…home.

A home that would never be his.

Just being here he could feel _her_ presence – a notion that was utterly ridiculous considering she was due to leave Coruscant for Mon Calamari any day now to handle the peace negotiations there. Obi-Wan would have the privilege of protecting the Senator of Naboo. Anakin relaxed just a little knowing his master's capable skills would keep her from harm, following the momentary sentimental lapse by clearing his head with a determined shake. The Mon Calamari matter wasn't any of Anakin's concern now. Nothing concerning _her_, he reminded himself as he stared at the planet below, was any of his business.

Still that did not alter the fact that some of the most defining moments of the young Padawan's life – so much of where he came from and who he was – was tied to this world. How he would have so liked to severe those ties! Perhaps then the constant ache he carried with him would finally go away.

It was a welcome distraction when Ferus entered the cockpit and sat down beside him.

"Barriss is making contact with the Queen. She should be up here in a moment."

Anakin nodded, adjusting the stabilizers with a flick of his hand. There. That should place them in line with the planet's rotation, directly over Theed.

He knew Ferus had sensed his unrest and could feel the other man responding to the tension in a predictable fashion – by raising his own mental barriers. Anakin wanted to tell him that the exercise was pointless. For once, he wasn't feeling any of the irritation that always seemed to mark keeping company with his rival. In fact, he knew Ferus deserved an explanation.

Well, he wasn't going to get it. Anakin just wasn't prepared to explain the true source of his unease, especially not to someone who could turn from ally to adversary in the blink of an eye.

They sat in uneasy silence until Barriss's light tread could be heard coming toward the cockpit. Anakin did his best to clear his mind and, surprisingly enough, he could feel Ferus doing the same. The second she walked through the door the tension seemed to dissipate.

She gave them both a slight smile, as if surprised to find them sitting quietly, then took the seat behind Anakin again. He spun his chair around to face her and Ferus did the same.

"I just spoke to Queen Jamillia. She confirmed all that we already know – basically that the colony of Otoh Nass on Ohma D'un has been eradicated by something…either a chemical or biological contaminant… and that they fear separatist involvement. Their teams have analyzed the situation in great detail, but they can't find any trace of a harmful agent." She took a deep breath before continuing. "That's where we come in. I explained that our mission is two-fold: that I will conduct more in-depth analysis while the two of you investigate to find the source of the contaminant, as well as determine whether or not there is a continued threat."

"Sounds like we're good to go then." Ferus offered with a grim expression.

"Yes." Barriss nodded her reply.

"I'll get us there." Anakin volunteered tersely, already settling back into his forward position and grasping the control yoke. With a quick motion he turned the shuttle and ignited thrusters, taking them around the planet body and away from Theed.

''

A scant half-hour after leaving Naboo's orbit the padawan team had managed to find docking space for their shuttle on Ohma D'un. After a bit of reconnaissance, Anakin sat their shuttle down on one of the larger commercial trading platforms on the southern outskirts of Otoh Nass. The location placed them neatly halfway between the commercial mining area and the residential district of the colony. 

The settlement here was very different from Otoh Gunga, or any other Gungan metropolis on Naboo for that matter. There were no deep lakes on Ohma D'un. Instead, the city was nestled in the heart of a large grassland swamp. Without deep water, there was no need to create an underwater breathable atmosphere. Despite this, the Gungans had insisted on maintaining their trademark bubble structures and brilliant lighting.

On any other day Barriss would have been taken by the beauty of it. Any day but today.

Today, there was an oppressive sense to the Force here on Ohma D'un, a dark emptiness that marked great loss of life.

Even from her seat in the scientific analysis room aboard ship Barriss could feel it. The unnaturalness of it made her faintly queasy, and she took a deep, meditative breath to dispel the feeling. She had become quite proficient at the calming technique and it helped her gradually adjust her mind to the barrenness.

The probe droids they had released just after touching down had only moments ago confirmed the analysis of the Naboo scientists - no dangerous pathogens existed in the air or on contact surfaces. In addition to the scientific analysis, they had also sent back holo-images of the colony – images that only added to Barriss's already sick feeling. Corpses were everywhere, Gungans mostly, with a few humans. Even the riding beasts, the Kaadu and Fambaa, had not survived.

It was easy to be overwhelmed by the magnitude of it all, the senselessness of the killing. Anger threatened to steal her hard-won peace and Barriss consciously pushed the negative emotion away from her. It wouldn't serve any purpose here.

What she did allow herself was a moment or two to mourn the dead.

A hand on her shoulder startled her from her introspection. She glanced up and wasn't surprised to see Ferus. They'd spent so much time together, she and Ferus and Siri, over the past months that she barely noticed his comings and goings any more. It wasn't that way with Anakin; his force signature blazed like a sun.

She took a moment to selfishly absorb the calm aura Ferus wore like a cloak. His steady gaze didn't question, nor did it judge. Not even when he noticed the tears streaking her cheeks. She could feel his mind reaching into hers, sharing a measure of his own peaceful center. His spirit mourned the loss of all the souls on the moon below as hers did, as all Jedi should, but unlike hers, it wasn't drowning in empathy.

"Yes, it was a tragedy, but it wasn't your tragedy. Be careful only to feel it, not own it." He said this quietly, closing her equipment bag before hoisting it over his shoulder. "Time to go."

Nodding, she rose and accompanied him from the room.

''

As the Jedi Padawans left the shuttle a distant pair of eyes watched their slow progress over the walkways that connected the vast network of Otoh Nass bubble structures. The cold red gaze took in their equipment, their determined walk, the way they examined everything about their environment. 

Though they moved over and around obstacles with caution, they didn't hesitate when it came to touching and interacting with those obstacles. Even when it was the corpses of dead Gungans that barred their way. It was clear they felt no further toxic threat existed here.

And they were right.

A semblance of a smile tilted the Corellian's scarred features as he watched the tallest of the three Padawans.

Skywalker. The prize. The sole reason he found himself on this post-apocalyptic rock.

What he needed now was a means of isolating his prey.

It wasn't that he doubted his ability to take out the trio. They _were_ only mere apprentices. It was just that doing so would involve a great deal more effort than he really wanted to expend. After all, he was only being paid for one mark, not three. Far smarter to separate them and claim his trophy of choice.

He followed them from a discrete distance. He'd dealt with Jedi before. He knew they had a certain area of perception around them and it wouldn't do to get too close and have one of them sense his presence.

After a quick run through of the main city area fate intervened and gave him the break he sought. The trio split up.

The female humanoid headed off in the general direction of their ship while Skywalker and the other went separate directions. From the look of it, the shorter Padawan was heading to the mining district. Skywalker appeared to be going to the residential areas. He followed long enough to be sure and was rewarded for his patience by the sight of the young Jedi stopping at the city's residential maintenance grid. He entered the large bubble.

Wonderful! This was just the stroke of luck he'd been hoping for. Now was the time to implement the plan and pull his target into a trap. He raised his wrist and pressed a code into the com-band he wore.

''

With her ship locked into a tight orbit around the moon Amidala sat at her desk reviewing reports forwarded to her by the Queen. She'd been idle for a while now, after taking time to change from her formal traveling dress into more practical attire. The burgundy pants and skirted jacket reminded her very much of the military outfit she'd once worn as queen. Funny how some things never went out of style. 

Typho was in the engine room giving their flight systems another once-over. Dormé and Dané were most likely catching up on their sleep. They had pressed her to do the same and were probably right to suggest it. Downtime to rest would be hard to come by once the Queen contacted her to begin… what? What, exactly, was she waiting on?

She was doing her best to gather information, but to what end? The constant inactivity was eating her alive. She needed to be _doing_ something. What if there were survivors below on Ohma D'un that the surveys had missed? What if there really was a threat to Naboo itself? Had the Jedi arrived? _What was going on?_

She hadn't flown all this way to sit safely tucked away with her hands tied!

Amidala looked back down at the report on the screen. All signs seemed to point to the fact that the danger of contamination had passed, but scientific analysis in situations like this could be mistaken.

A sudden yellow flashing light on the side panel caught her eye. It was a local channel…an emergency channel, from the look of it. She leaned over and pressed the button that would route the transmission to play back. Evidently there was no video, and the audio was faint. She increased the volume.

Shock lanced through her when the small office was filled with the voice of a Gungan child.

"Someone please to send help… Mesa very scared…and so alone... " The message kept repeating between bursts of static.

Amidala leapt to her feet. Urgently she leaned over the desk and began pressing buttons. The reports she'd been reading disappeared, to be replaced by a small map of the colony below. A small red pinpoint of light marked the origin of the transmission on the map.

It crossed her mind to wake Dormé and Dané. Had she really considered things through, perhaps she might have done so.

Right now, though, the only thought filling Amidala's mind was that she had to rescue this child. She didn't want to waste valuable time while her guardians made what would be a futile attempt to talk her out of it. Worse, they might insist on come along. That she couldn't allow. Exposing herself to possible toxins on the moon surface was one thing – especially when she was tired of being cosseted and protected. Exposing her friends was quite another matter indeed.

She shut off the transmission and silently gathered some things from her desk that she might need – a small blaster pistol, her com-link, and a short cloak. Then she turned and left the office, heading down the corridor towards the Nubian craft's small shuttle bay.

No one stopped her.

''

Barriss Offee had returned to her lab on the shuttle and was now alone with her samples, ready to spend whatever time it would take to analyze them for clues. 

Scanning on several monitors at once, she clicked the control buttons, continuously pulling up deeper views of the microorganisms she'd managed to isolate. She'd taken samples from everything. Contact plates and swabs from surfaces, vials of water, food and drink, even empty-looking containers of the colony's manufactured breathable air. Each sample would be passed through both types of analysis – biological and chemical.

The biologicals were her starting point and so far they weren't yielding anything.

Not that she'd expected them to.

While exploring the city she'd used a deep meditation technique that often gave some force-sense of toxicity when it existed in a living organism. She hadn't felt any such markers, not even when weaving her way through Gungan corpses. Neither had she sensed anything from the samples themselves since coming back to the quiet solitude of the lab.

She rose and took several of the samples to the other counter, placing the vials and small discs in front of the analysis droids who were readying their delicate instrumentation. These samples had just been cleared biologically and would now be analyzed on a chemical and molecular level.

She turned back to the table and held her hand over the next batch. Taking a deep breath, she concentrated on each individual container. So deeply was she entranced that the sudden beeps of an incoming transmission made her jerk violently. Recovering her composure quickly she turned and ran across the lab to the comm. station.

It was an incoming distress call and it was generating from…the surface of Ohma D'un…here in the colony! Her vivid blue eyes widened. They'd scanned the colony completely for any sign of life and so had the Naboo crews. Neither had found anything, yet there it was: the unmistakable flash of a transmission from one of the distant border bubbles. She set the computer to record the message and play it back.

"Mesa very scared…and so alone... someone please to send help…" The voice was childlike and clearly Gungan. Static distorted it between clear phrases, but it played over and over in a continuous loop.

Barriss was seized with a sudden panic. A Gungan youngling…still alive in all this? She turned to grab her cloak and lightsaber then remembered her mission directive. Instead she reached for her com-link. Anakin would be closest.

"Skywalker."

"Anakin, this is Barriss!" She couldn't keep the urgency from her voice, and Anakin picked up on it instantly.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm receiving a distress signal from within the colony! It sounds like a child."

"Can you send me the coordinates in a data stream?"

She leaned over the data panel and punched in the appropriate code. The tiny flashing green light signaled that information was being transferred.

"Done."

"I'll go check it out. It'll take some time to get there, I'm on the other side of the city."

She hesitated. "Anakin…"

"Yes?"

"Be careful. I can't think of any way there could be a survivor. Not even one."

"I hear you. I'll tread lightly." He was focused on getting on with the rescue and dismissive of her concern. She could hear it in his voice.

"I mean it Anakin. As much as I want to hope that we'll find survivors…or even one… there is something about it that just doesn't make sense." And her instincts in these matters were usually very good.

"I promise, Barriss." There, that was better. At least he sounded sincere. "Skywalker out."

''

Ferus made his way cautiously through the Ohma D'un mining district. He couldn't say why he felt the need to investigate this area. Siri would call it a hunch, but he knew it wasn't as vague as that. He felt drawn here, perhaps even led by the Force. 

The focal point of the district was a mining platform built on pillars of durasteel that kept it easily ten meters above the marshes below. Half a dozen buildings crowded onto its surface, giving rise to latticework drilling towers that ascended endlessly towards the blackness of space.

Surrounding this main structure were several lower levels that looked to house a combination of supply docks and barracks for mining crews. From his position on one of these smaller platforms Ferus could see that the buildings were temporary, comprised of little more than thin duralloy sheets over a metal framework.

This was consistent with what his research said was common of this type of operation. Miners were often transient contractors for large companies. It wasn't unusual for them to pull up stakes and move from site to site on little or no notice.

The mining platform loomed dark and silent just ahead. No activity could be seen or heard, not even the kind of automated drilling that usually went on non-stop. There weren't even any service droids wandering about.

Yes, this was definitely odd. No dead miners, or families of miners, or pets of miners. Nothing to indicate this place had been inhabited prior to the outbreak that killed the Gungan settlers.

It seemed completely deserted, yet despite its emptiness, the feeling Ferus had been chasing all along intensified. There was something here he needed to find.

He ran lightly toward one of the ladders that would take him up to the rig platform. It seemed as good a place as any to begin his search.

He had only just stepped off the top rung when his com-link gave a persistent buzz.

"Olin."

"Ferus." Barriss's voice came as a surprise. The usual warmth that curled in his stomach whenever she said his name did not. Strange as the reaction was, he'd grown used to it.

"Barriss?" He'd been expecting an update from Skywalker.

She didn't waste time. "I intercepted a distress call from an outlying residential area. Anakin has gone to check it out."

"I wondered why I hadn't heard from him. He should've checked in a while back." He knew he sounded annoyed, but couldn't quite convince himself to hide his exasperation. When had Skywalker ever followed protocol? Then it hit him what Barriss had said. "A distress call?"

"Yes, it sounded like a Gungan child. From sector AA14."

"Something alive? How can that be? All evidence so far suggests nothing could've survived this."

"I have no idea." He could tell she was annoyed by this. "My analyses so far have only confirmed our total devastation theory. Biological analysis is negative across the board, but I've just found several trace elements in the water. Those lead me to believe this was a chemical toxin."

"Well, that pretty much cinches that this was a deliberate attack. If I was a betting man, I'd put my credits on the Separatists."

"One thing doesn't make sense Ferus." She continued, wondering aloud. "Why all this effort to destroy a small Gungan colony?"

"I think we have to assume this is a test site. The colony here was of no strategic use to anyone." He allowed his eyes to adjust to the gathering darkness of the empty platform and scanned the nearby area as he spoke. "A better question would be 'why pick Naboo's moon for such an experiment'?"

Barriss picked up on his train of thought. "It has to be the ecosystem or the location."

He silently agreed with her theory. But which one was it? If the poison was water-based, then the ecosystem would be the logical choice. What better test group for an aquatic toxin than an amphibious colony?

If the location was the point, then proximity to Naboo had to be the key element. Was revenge the point of this slaughter? Or perhaps it was just a ruse to catch someone's attention. Could there be another motive? Something that eluded him still…

He couldn't shake the feeling something was amiss.

All around him the Force suddenly came alive. The air itself quivered with danger.

A faint metal clanking sounded from some distance away. "Barriss, there's something out here. I need to sign off."

"Ferus, wait –"

"I'll get back with you as soon as I can!"

He flicked off the com-link and ducked behind the closest wall.

''

Deep in the residential district of the devastated colony, seated at a public communications station in the middle of a housing complex, Arcus Novar waited patiently. He was used to waiting. As a captain in the Republic guard, it had often been his job. More hours than he could count had been spent silently watching over whatever senator or dignitary had been in his charge. It hadn't been time wasted. In fact, it had been great preparation for this far more profitable career. In this line of work patience was essential. Moving too quickly – even an instant – could cost the mark. 

His eyes gleamed red in the dimness of the empty Gungan community center. The cybernetic optical implants had been a parting gift from the Republic. He'd once considered them poor replacements for the human eyes he'd lost in the line of duty, but since taking on this new line of work that view had changed. Distance vision, night vision, ultra-quick focusing…they were invaluable tools for a bounty hunter.

Not that he needed those enhancements at the moment. Metallic irises narrowed to take in the green light blinking on the communications array. With every flash the message he'd so artfully engineered was being broadcast to any open distress channel within a certain radius. The distance had been carefully calculated so that it would not reach Naboo. It wouldn't do to have complications at this stage of the game, not when luck had seen his mark sent to this isolated place.

Then he saw it on the view panel by the COM: a small yellow blip – a life sign – registering on the map of the housing complex. It had to be Skywalker. Aside from himself, the young Padawan was the only living thing in this area. The other two Jedi wouldn't be along for a while, even if they had intercepted his engineered distress call.

He watched the blip make quick progress towards the COM center. Its steady pace would bring it into this room in just a few moments. He'd picked this room for its thick durasteel walls hoping to hide his presence from the approaching Jedi. Apparently it was working because the figure kept its steady approach.

Resolutely he kept his gaze on the map panel, though the temptation to turn and watch the door behind him was strong. The computer-generated image would be more reliable in terms of springing his trap.

Novar palmed his blast pistol as he moved his other hand over a small button on the COM station panel. Closer… Just a little closer. There!

The door to the room slid open and the living being rushed inside. Novar triggered the ray shields, smiling as he heard them zip into place around his target. He stood slowly, prepared to look Anakin Skywalker in the eye and turned slowly.

The sight that met his eyes came as a surprise.

Instead of a tall Jedi Padawan he saw a slight young girl in wine colored clothes encased in shimmering blue ray shields.

"Well," he muttered, frustration lending a tight edge to his gravelly voice. "Who do we have here?"

He walked over to the trapped woman. Her stature had given him the impression of youth at first, but now that he could see her face he realized that although she was young, she was not a child. Her warlike expression and the blaster at her hip marked her as more.

She glared at him through the shields but didn't say a word.

"Oh. Don't feel like talking, do we?" He waved the blaster he held in his hand. "Too bad."

The girl raised her chin rebelliously. Her brown eyes followed him as he crossed to the control panel. His hand hovered over the button that would drop the ray shields and he carefully aimed his blaster at her chest.

"I hate to kill without being paid for it." Her eyes widened, as if she were only just realizing the seriousness of her situation. "Pity you aren't trying to talk me out of it. I've always had a certain weakness for petite brunettes."

At his words her demeanor changed. Her shoulders lost their defiant stance, drooping as if she were exhausted. She even found her voice.

"I'm a scientist from Naboo. I came to rescue a survivor believed to be a Gungan child." Though she offered the explanation in reasonable tones, Novar couldn't say why he didn't believe her. Maybe it was the fact that, though her body appeared cooperative, the chill in her eyes never quite left.

"There were no survivors." He offered bluntly, watching her face for any trace of reaction.

"But we intercepted a message – "

"This message?" He touched the panel and a small pleading voice filled the room.

"Yes, but why…?" Her eyes were clear with understanding and fury, though her words still played at confusion. This lady wasn't at all what she seemed.

He should just kill her and be done with it, but something was holding him back. What he had told her was true: he did have a soft spot – possibly his only one – for tiny, dark haired women. But this present hesitation had nothing to do with physical attraction. There was something about her that seemed familiar. He couldn't place her face, but he remembered it from somewhere. He had a feeling that whoever she was or wherever she came from, he had a feeling she was worth more alive than dead.

Making up his mind, he moved his hand to another button and slowly pressed it. Within the floor to ceiling boundary of the ray shields an emitter on the ceiling released a yellowish gas. There was no escaping it. Her eyes were still glaring before they closed. Within seconds the girl was slumped on the floor.

Losing no time Arcus released the shields and ran to move his captive. From his utility belt he pulled a set of binder cuffs and roughly fastened them around the girl's wrists. He checked her for any sign of identification – something a Naboo scientist would have had – and found nothing. Lastly, he removed her blaster from its holster, noting the sleek Nubian design as he pushed the tiny weapon into his boot.

Though he was only of average size and strength for a Corellian, moving her slight form presented no problem. He laid her down on the floor near his seat before pausing to glance back at the map screen. No further life signs were evident, but Skywalker should be arriving any minute.

Which brought him back to his mystery hostage. He took his seat back at the communications station and looked back at the girl slumped at his feet.

The analysis crews had long-since returned to Naboo. Dressed as she was and without any trace of identification, this girl couldn't possibly have been one of them anyway. Scientists from the planet surface wore very distinctive bright blue uniforms. She was no Jedi either – armed as she was with a blaster. So, just where _had_ she come from?

He was saved from further consideration as a new yellow blip on the screen commanded his attention.

Skywalker.

It had to be.

He resumed his earlier position, blaster drawn, hand hovering over the button that would activate the ray shields.

''

Ferus peered out from behind the wall to see a patrol of two droid soldiers coming down one of the ramps from above. There didn't seem to be any more than the pair and they seemed to be doing a routine patrol. Soldiers from the Confederate army? Somehow he wasn't as surprised as he should have been. 

What surprised him was the warning the Force had given him. It seemed out of proportion to the danger these droids seemed to pose. Still, they _were_ approaching very rapidly. He would need to take them both out at once: even a few seconds might be enough for them to report his presence.

He glanced up, seeing a maze of pipes and small catwalks directly over him. His body followed his eyes and, in one fluid motion, he landed lightly on the pipe above where he'd just been standing. Hardly breathing he waited until they were passing underneath him. Just as they walked by he dropped behind them. In one clean motion he landed on his feet, activated his lightsaber and decapitated both.

He was on the com-link to Barriss almost before they could drop to the deck. She answered at once and seemed as stunned as he was to hear there were Separatist droid forces here on Ohma D'un.

"I'll contact Anakin with the information." she volunteered. "This makes it more likely than ever that he's walking into a trap."

"Now that we know the separatists are here, I think we can confirm the outbreak was an attack of some sort."

Barriss agreed. "I've managed to isolate what I believe is the poison compound by analyzing water molecules. They are carrying products of some kind of reaction that can't have happened at random. But Ferus, there _is_ a trigger for contagion despite the lack of a viral or bacterial source. It probably has something to do with poisons being excreted by infected organism. That's what made it so devastating to the amphibian colony."

"Have you figured an antidote?" He asked.

"No, but I've got some promising leads."

"That's good." Ferus paused, warring with himself for a moment before adding, "Barriss, if Anakin needs help I'll go. Have him contact me if he thinks there is any immediate danger."

The silence that followed from Barriss's end was ominous. Ferus winced. He'd known she'd bristle at the directive. She'd chaffed before at his over protectiveness. Maybe if she thought his motives were otherwise motivated...

"Seriously Barriss, the antidote you're working on has got to be your priority. This poison is going to show up again and we have no way of knowing how soon."

"I know." It was grudging, but it was an agreement of sorts and it made him feel better.

"Unless I hear from him I'm going to continue my exploration here at the drilling site."

"Be careful, Ferus," she said. Her voice was soft, less determined than before.

There was a long pause.

"Ferus?"

"I will," he said, swallowing hard. He must have heard that admonition several times from Master Siri, in even fonder tones. He had no idea why Barriss's soft caution should affect him so.

"Check in with me on schedule," she said and signed off.

"I will." He said again, this time to the air around him.

Then in a brisk motion, he tucked away the com-link and started scaling the tower, letting conflicting thoughts and emotions fall from him as so much unwanted burdens. For the moment at least, he was every inch a Jedi.

And on this desolate moon, the Jedi had a great deal to do.

* * *


	10. Black Moon Rising

**CHAPTER IX**

**Black Moon Rising**

There really wasn't anything unusual about the domed building that housed the local Gungan communications center. Nothing to indicate Anakin should be wary or concerned except for being the point-of-origin of a distress transmission. There was no reason, really, not to just walk in the front door.

He couldn't say why he stopped exactly. Perhaps it was the fact that there _was nothing amiss_.

__

"I can't think of any way there could be a survivor." Barriss's warning echoed in his head, _"… there is something about it that just doesn't make sense."_

If I was a scared child, I'd be watching for a rescuer, Anakin's own thoughts replied, _and I wouldn't be shy about running to him once I saw him_.

Yet the open doorway into the center was dark and silent. He palmed his lightsaber but didn't activate it. Instead, he stood at the opening staring down the darkened corridor. He closed his eyes, breathing deep. There was no sense of deception here. No sense of conscious thought at all. His eyes snapped open. The pervasive veil of death that had shrouded him since setting foot on Ohma D'un was missing too.

He looked around for any hint that could explain. The housing areas he'd just come through had been thick with death. Not only the sight and smell of it, but the oppressiveness in the Force that marked the disaster like a flare.

When had that oppression lifted? Anakin looked back down the path he'd come. The occasional corpse could still be seen. Why couldn't he _feel _them?

It didn't matter. All that mattered now was that Barriss was right. This wasn't a distress call.

He entered the corridor, seeing a short hallway with a closed portal at the end. What was it Obi-Wan was so fond of saying?

__

The beauty of a well made trap is in springing it.

He took determined steps down the hall, paused outside the closed door marking the entrance to the COM center. According to Barriss's information, this place was the origin of the transmission.

Throwing caution to the wind he decided that a tentative entrance was _not_ in order. He gathered himself, pressed the button and jumped through the door as it slid open using preternatural speed. He felt ray shields close behind him, tugging on his cloak as he passed through. Immediately the shroud around the Force lifted and for Anakin it was like sight returning to the blind.

Not losing momentum, he tucked his shoulder and rolled. Blaster fire impacted around him even as he ignited his saber and came to a stop. Fluidly he stood while blocking each deadly laser bolt with ease. In less than the space of a breath he pinpointed the source of the barrage. It was a simple thing to stretch out his free hand and pull with the Force.

An elaborate heavy blaster slapped into his gloved palm. He lost no time moving to the shooter, knocking him backwards against the COM with his open palm as he used the other to lay his lightsaber across the man's throat.

Only then, when the immediate threat was neutralized, did he stop to feel.

That's when it washed over him. Like flowers and rain. _Padmé_.

There was no mistaking her presence.

He looked around the room with desperation, his eyes lighting quickly on the slight figure on the floor. He could sense life strong in her body, could feel each indrawn breath.

It was the only thing that spared the man whose crimson eyes narrowed to meet Anakin's. Fear could be seen there, along with the lightsaber's oddly reflecting blue iridescence.

Anakin resisted the inclination to cut off his head. His voice was rough with rage as he demanded, "Who are you?"

The man grimaced with pain, but did not answer. Anakin took in his appearance at a glance. The black body armor, the ammo bands across his chest, ex-military boots, his stringy unkempt hair.

Then he sought a mental grip on the man's mind, finding one easily, as well as something unexpectedly mechanical. He peered intently into the eyes focused on his. _Yes. _Those were artificial as well.

His mind wrapped around the cyborg implants, following them into his victim's brain. Short electric arcs were easy to generate from the tiny power supply he found there. The man screamed in agony. Anakin drew back, asking him again, "Who are you and what are you doing with Senator Amidala?"

"S-s-senator Amidala?" There was more than a hint of panic once the man found his voice.

Drawing on the Force Anakin asked his questions again. It was beyond the man's ability to resist.

"N-novar." He breathed, "Arcus Novar." His eyes no longer met Anakin's, but focused on the blue light blade at his throat.

"And the Senator?" His voice was compelling, the fury in his face easy to read.

"Not a Senator –" the man called Novar gasped, "just a scientist …"

"You are lying!" Anakin insisted in the same deep voice, though actually he wasn't sure. He could sense the man was hiding something, but not about Padmé.

All of a sudden his patience ended with a flick of his wrist and the body of the man called Novar landed at his feet with a dull thud.

Anakin dropped to Padmé's side, carefully turning her over before using the Force to disengage the wrist binders.

He picked her up, cradling her gently in his arms. She felt so small. She'd always been slight, but healthy and leanly muscular. This was different. She seemed almost…fragile.

He carried her to a chair a short distance away but couldn't bring himself to let her go long enough to sit her in it. Instead, he sat, shifting her gently across his lap so she was cradled in the crook of his shoulder.

When he saw how pale and drawn her face was something savage roared in his chest. He rested her head back against his arm, pausing to push back the long dark tendrils escaping her severely styled hair.

"Padmé." His voice broke as he whispered her name. He tried again, stronger this time. "Padmé!" She didn't stir.

He reached into his belt pouch with his free hand, pulling out a tiny medical cartridge. After pressing one of several buttons on it, he touched the tip to her upper arm. A hissing sound was heard as the stimulant injected.

This time she did stir, waking slowly. Her eyelids fluttered, but the familiar russet gaze they revealed was strangely blank.

"Padmé?" He whispered again. "Are you all right?"

"Anakin?" At the sound of his voice her body tensed. Her eyes worked to focus as they came to rest on his face. She struggled against his hold. "Oh, Anakin, not again!" Then, as suddenly as she'd begun to fight, she relaxed.

Somehow one of her hands came up to touch his face. "Hold me! The mountains are so cold…" Her voice trailed into a whisper as she turned into his embrace. "Please, hold me…before I save you…" Her voice trailed off, but her other arm had circled his waist and was surprisingly strong around him.

Anakin tried to think, tried to understand what she was saying, despite the reality of her, warm and impossibly in his arms. Her words made no sense. Mountains? Ohma D'un was a swamp. Cold? _Nothing_ here was cold, not with her slim form pressed tightly to him. Certainly not with her passionate entreaty to be held! That, at least, was an appeal he understood.

Rationality was fast deserting him as he looked down into her face. It seemed both a lifetime and an instant since he'd held her. He was overwhelmed by her presence. His head swam dizzily as it bent closer to hers.

Padmé lifted her chin again, still pleading in a husky whisper, "Please…"

He did the only thing that made sense. He wrapped his other arm around her and pressed his lips to hers.

* * *

Ferus moved silently along the higher-level catwalks of the deserted drilling tower. Wind whipped around him fiercely and he'd long since discarded his Jedi cloak. The billowing garment had proven a hindrance when climbing the ladders and narrow ramps that separated these upper levels.

The place he'd spotted and taken out the patrol was now many levels below. Between there and here he'd found nothing to suggest the presence of more droid soldiers, but something – that Force sense – had led him up here.

And there it was. After noticing a light at the other end of the platform, Ferus had gone up another level and crossed above to get a better look.

With noiseless footsteps he had made his way across the structural beams and the roof of what seemed to be a small solid room. Keeping himself carefully in the shadows, he leaned forward to get a better look at the lit area.

There, just below him, were two more of the elite battle droid guards. They didn't appear to be doing anything.

Correction: they were standing in front of a door; the door to that enclosed room. It looked almost as if they were guarding it. In fact, Ferus thought, he'd bet his lightsaber that guarding that door was exactly what they were doing. Now to find out why.

Questioning Separatist droid soldiers would be pointless. The only way to discover anything would be to get them out of the way. In a flawless duplication of his earlier method, he dropped down and decapitated both droids, then tried the door.

Of course. Locked.

He searched the droids for a key card but didn't find anything. He then tried to hack the security panel. Again, nothing.

He considered it thoughtfully. There was no doubt in his mind that he could reprogram it, but it would take some time.

In a completely un-Ferus-like maneuver – and chastising himself yet again for adopting Anakin Skywalker's impulsiveness – he reignited his lightsaber and slashed the panel in a clean diagonal line from corner to corner. The door opened with a hiss of depressurization.

Ferus held his lightsaber at the ready, prepared for a barrage of plasma bolts if droid soldiers should happen to be inside.

Nothing happened. When only silence was forthcoming he looked cautiously into the room.

There, on the floor in front of several monitors and equipment control panels were two Sullustans. They were crudely bound and gagged but their dark eyes seemed to recognize his Jedi accoutrements and were filled with immense relief.

He questioned them cautiously before releasing them, and several minutes later he knew why the Force had been so insistent that he come this way.

Nian Mib and Dudb Nin claimed, in heavily accented Basic, to be miners paid by the separatists to smuggle battle droids and military supplies onto Ohma D'un's mining facility.

Being natives of Sullust and a curious species, they had done more than their fair share of snooping. While taking it upon themselves to investigate their "cargo" they managed to overhear a report from one of the droid soldiers to someone off-world about a plan to test a new military weapon. Released into the water supply, the biotoxin was fast-acting, quickly dissipating and absolutely lethal to all water-based sentient life on Ohma D'un.

It hadn't taken much more to discover the second part of the plan: that, if the first part succeeded, the droids were to then prepare to release the same toxin on Naboo itself.

While listening to the two recount their story, Ferus realized it confirmed most of the suspicions he and Barriss had shared a short while ago: the nature and mode of action of the toxin, that it was a weapon, and – most horrifying of all – that Naboo's moon was only a test site. The real target was the unsuspecting peaceful planet below.

The miners, not keen on being among the casualties, had tried immediately to leave Ohma D'un. They hadn't gotten far. The droid soldiers had taken them into custody, binding them before locking them in the pressurized control tower that was serving as the separatist base of operations.

Ferus made a point of asking them how and when the toxin would be released on Naboo itself. They knew very little, other than it would be released into the water supply of Theed City when the command came from off-world.

"I'll call to Naboo for a security detail to come for you." Ferus explained once he'd finished questioning them, "I'm sure they'll want to debrief you further." The Sullustans seemed to understand, though they looked justifiably unhappy about being taken into custody. Ferus traded their rough rope bindings for magnetized binders and secured them just outside the tower room.

Once he found himself alone in the Separatist base, he made the promised transmission to Naboo before contacting Barriss. His news captured her attention immediately and he explained his findings in detail.

"How long do we have before the toxin is released?" Barriss asked once Ferus finished. It was the question Ferus had been dreading.

"I have no idea. And before you ask, I don't know where or how they plan to do it."

"We'll have to assume that we have little or no time, then." She responded matter-of-factly. "The good news is I've managed to isolate the infecting agents."

"You have? That's wonderful news!" Ferus found himself smiling.

Barriss elaborated. "What we have is an inert biological derivative – a fungus of unknown origin – dormant in a dry state. Once rehydrated the spores become viable, but they still aren't toxic. The Separatists seem to have supplied specialized nutrients the fungus requires to grow and multiply, plus a chemical catalyst. It is the chemical that is the key here. Evidently it causes them to secrete a toxin and it is this toxin, not the fungus itself, that kills." Admiration was now evident with the excitement in her voice. "It was an amazing bit of engineering on the part of their scientists. Once the chemical catalyst is used up, the spores aren't irritated and stop secreting the poison. Once the nutrients are used up, they revert back to their dormant state." She paused for breath. "That's why none of the scientists could find a living organism. The danger is that while actively secreting, they are highly lethal, whether carried in water, on a living being, or even on vapor in the air."

Her words hung between them for long moments.

"Ferus? Are you still there?" A hint of uncertainty had dimmed to her enthusiasm.

He cleared his throat and said formally, "Very good work, Barriss." It wasn't much, as praise went, but he didn't dare commend her as he wanted to. He would have loved to tell her how incredible she was, how amazing it was that she'd discovered all this in the space of only a few hours. A pang of frustration smote him and he cleared his throat again.

She saved him from whatever he would have said. "I've already transmitted my data to the scientists on Naboo."

'Excellent!" Ferus sat down at one of the data terminals in the room. He had a Separatist computer bank to hack. If details of the planned attack on Theed existed, this would be the place to find them. He cracked his knuckles. Some of Master Siri's unorthodox lessons were about to come in handy.

"Ferus, have you heard from Anakin?"

Ferus was startled. "No. Haven't you? He should have checked in by now." Despite himself, he felt a pang of worry.

"He hasn't." She sounded both anxious and resolute.

Ferus tensed. "Barriss-"

She interrupted him sharply, correctly anticipating his request. "No, Ferus. Finding out where the toxin will strike is of primary importance and you're in the best position to do so. The analysis is complete. _My_ job is done; I have to go after him."

There was no flaw in her argument. Ferus cleared his throat painfully, swallowing back another pang of frustration and forced himself to sound brisk and professional. "Fine. Do that. I'll inform Coruscant of the confirmed military threat to Naboo. They will likely want to send backup in the event a planet-wide search has to be undertaken. Then I'll see what I can find here in the Separatist database." He hesitated and emotion seeped back to his voice. "And Barriss…"

"Yes, Ferus, I'll be careful." He could hear a promise of laughter in her voice along with the usual patience. Despite himself, he felt his lips curl upward in response. One good thing about suffering Skywalker's presence – Barriss became more her old teasing self when he was around. That, alone, made it worth putting up with whatever the other Padawan subjected Ferus to.

As she signed off, Ferus told himself he'd do the same for any of his other friends in the Order. For the first time, he entertained the possibility that this wasn't entirely true.

* * *

__

Anakin.

He was here again, on the mountain. Only this time he was holding her, kissing her, turning Padmé's blood from ice to fire.

It couldn't be real. Any second she'd be forced to shove him off the precipice to save him from himself.

But for this moment, she was warm, safe and in his arms. No place else in the galaxy existed. There was no senate, no army, no war, no politics. Just Anakin and his blazing, breathless heat.

His hold on her tightened, his lips became more insistent, fevered. He muttered her name over and over, like a prayer.

Padmé fought her own longing to join him in that mindless place where nothing else mattered. If she did, how could she bear to do what had to be done next? And it must be done…if only she could remember why…

"Please Padmé!" He was whispering now between pressing heated kisses to her face. "Tell me this is all right." A passionate entreaty. "Padmé, help me!"

Now. He was asking for her help. There was no more time. It had to be done now!

She pushed at him. He didn't fall away, but his hold loosened by degrees. She opened her eyes, thrashing violently against the strong limbs holding her captive. As soon as she began struggling in earnest Anakin seemed to sense something was wrong. His arms dropped at once and she slid off his lap, fighting to stand and recover her equilibrium.

All at once her surroundings registered. There was no cliff and this was no dream! She was here, on Ohma D'un, to rescue…no, not rescue. The distress call had been a hoax.

And there was a body at her feet. The man that she had lied to in order to escape being killed.

Anger flooded through Padmé. Anger at how easily she had been duped. Then shock because he was dead. Because Anakin must have killed him.

__

Anakin!

Anakin was here. Anakin had _kissed_ her.

Her hand rose to cover her mouth, to cover the instinctive moan of grief that had followed in a torrent. Grief that for a few precious moments she hadn't been lonely or cold. Grief that he wouldn't ever kiss her again. Hot tears filled her eyes and she turned away to hide them.

"Padmé?" Anakin's voice was filled with concern. He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. The heat of it burned through her tunic. She pulled away at once.

"I'm fine Anakin." She replied coldly, knowing her only refuge at this point was keeping a distance between them. She imagined his shocked, hurt expression and her heart ached even as she blinked the tears away. "I'm sorry for that little scene. He used some kind of sleep-inducing gas on me. I wasn't myself."

She let her hand drop and clenched it into a fist as she steeled herself to face Anakin. Then she turned.

__

Oh sweet Force!

She had not thought it possible that Anakin would be every bit as beautiful as she remembered and she was right. His beauty surpassed her memories – he was more golden, taller, older… _Older?_

Ridiculous! She chided herself silently; they'd only been apart months, not years. Now that she looked, though, she could see that it wasn't time that had aged him. His cheeks were hollow, almost gaunt, as though he didn't always take the time to eat or sleep. His eyes…

Clenching both fists now, Padmé raised her eyes to his.

He had always had the bluest, most expressive eyes she had ever known. Almost too blue to be real, Anakin Skywalker's eyes had captured her heart long before she had realized it. One look from those eyes could make her want to weep, make her want to die, make her want to fling her soul into oblivion. His eyes…

… had no sign of hurt or pleading in them. Instead there was only a mild concern. One brow was raised in silent query.

Her hands fell open with her utter surprise. The sight should have offered relief; clearly her actions had not hurt him as much as she had feared. It did not. Instead, a stab of intense irritation came closely on the heels of surprise.

"My lady," Anakin addressed her formally, "my apologies as well. My concern for your safety had me carried away. It won't happen again." He inclined his head slightly in the sort of humbly respectful gesture common to Jedi.

The hot blood that rushed to Padmé's cheeks was not caused by embarrassment.

"Please," he began again, "we need to leave this place. You can explain what you're doing here once I've gotten you to safety." He offered her a steadying arm which she made a point of refusing by turning away.

"I couldn't agree more." Her voice was not as cool as she liked. How dared he recover his composure so quickly? How dared he immediately assume the role of her protector? Didn't he know she'd been cosseted practically since her return from Geonosis? Why did _she_ have to explain her presence here to _him_?

She walked over to the dead man's corpse – the thuds of her boot were angry punctuation marks on the floor – and pointedly reached into his boot to retrieve the tiny blaster he'd taken from her earlier.

"Let's go."

* * *

Aurra Sing waited impatiently on the rooftop of a housing unit for Novar and Skywalker to emerge from the Gungan community center. Knowing Novar's usual methods, she was certain he'd set some kind of trap for his prey. With that in mind, she'd been following Skywalker from a distance since he left the Jedi ship.

Once life sign scanning was no longer being done, it hadn't been too difficult to use her minimally developed Force powers to shield her mental presence from the Jedi. In the interest of increasing her rival's chances for success, it had been even easier to block Novar's primitive mind as well. That ability had been her forte as a Padawan and was one of the few gifts of the Force she'd managed to take with her and retain from her brief time at the Temple. Over the years the talent had come in handy during the capture and elimination of many Jedi.

The odds were minimal for Novar's success, but it was worth the inconvenience to let him try. If he did succeed it would be far easier to kill him off and take over his role as Anakin Skywalker's captor than to actually capture or eliminate Skywalker herself. Even if his plan failed, chances were better that Skywalker would be wounded or tired after their encounter - easier to take off-guard.

In Sing's long and illustrious career as a bounty hunter and assassin, the path of least resistance had always been her preference. There was no question that letting others do difficult work for her had raised her life expectancy by parsecs.

A movement from below caught her attention. Finally! Skywalker was leaving the building… and he was _not _escorted by Arcus Novar.

__

Surprise, surprise. The Corellian scum was clumsy and unprofessional, and often guilty of grossly underestimating his prey. The idiot had probably planned to try and take Skywalker alive. Sing felt sure Novar was no longer an issue.

What _really _came as a surprise was the presence of a slight dark haired woman following Skywalker from the building. Where had _she_ come from?

Sing pulled the binoculars off her belt and peered through the viewer. Searching her memory for some hint of recognition, she came up empty handed. She didn't look like a bounty hunter, or like anyone who would've come with Novar. She did, however, seem familiar. Very familiar.

Recollections from recent holonet vids flashed through her mind.

It couldn't be. The _Angel of Peace_? Senator Padmé Amidala here on Naboo?

"Well, well," Sing whispered, "set a trap for a Jedi and catch a senator. Two for the price of one." She swung her leg over the seat of the silently idling speeder parked beside her and prepared to follow her quarry.

Yes, this was an interesting development indeed.

* * *

Anakin led the way out of the center, acutely feeling Padmé follow close behind. He was hyper-aware of her, the hairs on his skin actually tingling at her proximity. He couldn't help remembering how fragile she'd felt in his arms. The temptation to put a protective arm around her – or at least grasp her hand – to lead her directly to the ship was strong and he kept himself painfully in check. He didn't need Jedi perception to know physical contact would not be appreciated.

He had just turned down the left passageway that would take them toward the Jedi ship in the western sector when he felt Padmé veer right and start toward the eastern outskirts.

"Where are you going?" He snapped. He didn't bother to hide his impatience. After their kiss he'd carefully reined in his emotions, trapping them in the cage he'd long-since placed around his heart. They were controlled, but not mastered. Beating fiercely against their prison, made bold by the recent lapse of restraint, they were ready to burst out if he let down his guard.

Padmé stopped, turning a cold brown glance at him from over her shoulder. Her expression was remote and told him clearer than words that she considered his presence irrelevant. When she spoke it was in the same patronizing tone one might use with an annoying child. "I'm going back to my ship."

It hadn't even occurred to him that she must have come with her own ship. He focused on that, considered this situation, as he would have done any other and tried not to let his hackles rise at her condescending attitude.

"Senator, I'm taking you back to the _Jedi_ ship," he declared as authoritatively as possible. "We will escort you safely to Naboo."

The ice in her gaze thawed in a hot flare of temper. Anakin braced for it, only to be taken off-guard when her words were carefully even.

"No, _Padawan_, you are not. I'm _not_ here on the orders of the senate and you are not my Jedi protector. I will leave Ohma D'un in my own ship." Though her words were chilly and polite, the smoldering fire banked in her eyes belied her indifference. As if aware of this, she turned her face away and continued walking.

It was the same determined tone she'd used to insist on going to Geonosis to rescue Obi-Wan. Now, as then, he knew there was no point in arguing unless he was prepared to pick her up and bodily carry her back to the Jedi craft. That wasn't a place he was ready to go… not yet anyway. Though he couldn't deny that having her emphasize his apprentice status did sting. He knew it was meant to.

"Then I will _ensure_ your safety by personally escorting you to your ship." He made every attempt to keep his words respectful, yet as nonnegotiable as hers had been. There was no way he would abandon her unprotected, no matter how many barbs she threw. Not even if it was her heart's desire.

"Of course you will." Her voice was resigned, though the determined set of her shoulders did not change. Padmé knew the Jedi. More important, she knew _him_. It was a victory, but a small one. Anakin didn't feel victorious. It was clear that Padmé was only taking the path of least resistance.

Weariness emanated from her. His gut twisted as he once again suppressed the urge to offer comfort. He much preferred her anger to this sense that he had somehow…defeated her. He fell back in step with her, letting her lead and noticing that she took the widest possible paths around any of the dead Gungans.

Anakin knew from studying the colony maps that she was headed for the residential transport platforms. The Gungan colony didn't have much by way of technology for travel, but there were a few hub platforms housing small shuttles and repulsorlift craft on the outskirts of the settlement. If one were flying a small shuttle pod it would make sense to land there. Larger crafts, like the Jedi ship, had no choice but to utilize the commercial dock.

Her words had given him little to go on as to why she was here. A galactic Senator didn't belong in a hot zone. Especially not alone. One thing was clear from what she'd said. Neither the senate, nor the Jedi, was privy to her mission directives. The absence of her handmaiden bodyguards spoke volumes as well. Anakin knew those young women would never let their charge out of their sight. He suspected they didn't know her whereabouts, which meant she wasn't supposed to be here at all.

Speaking of whereabouts, he really should contact Barriss or Ferus. He would, just as soon as he got Padmé to her ship and saw her safely off this moon. Until that happened, he wouldn't be able to focus on the mission anyway. Hopefully the other two were making good progress without him. He felt a momentary pang of regret for having dispatched Arcus Novar so quickly. The criminal might have been able to give useful information on the attack on Ohma D'Un.

The light was fading. The moon colony was falling into shadow as Naboo's orbit slowly took it into night. The darkness added an element of evil to the already sinister death-ridden streets.

Something outside a nearby hovel caught his eye. A battered speeder bike.

"Senator, wait." Padmé stopped, turning back to see why Anakin had halted their progress.

The machine gleamed dully. It was old and, though Anakin wasn't familiar with the make, he suspected it pre-dated him by at least a generation. The durasteel frame was painted a nondescript dark color, probably to keep it from rusting in the swampy Ohma D'un humidity. It wasn't a Gungan construct. The scale of the controls and seating pegged it as being crafted for a much taller bi-pedal species than humanoid.

"Anakin," the sound of her voice speaking his name softly sent a shiver up his spine, "you aren't thinking of flying that thing, are you?"

"I am." His reply was clipped. "And you are going to fly on it with me." He leaned over the swoop, tinkering a bit with the wiring. It fired instantly with the whine of a poorly maintained repulsorlift engine. Anakin grimaced. It would have to do.

Padmé looked as if she would protest.

"Senator, we've got to get you off-world. I may be only a Padawan, but I have a job here. An important one. As long as I'm with you I can't do it." His words were matter of fact, but anger was beginning to simmer underneath them. Surely she didn't think he was manipulating the circumstance to be closer to her? Nothing could be further from the truth.

He'd rather die than experience the irresolvable pain of being near her either mentally or physically.

Something in the determined set of his jaw must've told her where an argument would lead because she climbed onto the bike. Anakin steeled himself to endure her closeness and slid on behind her.

* * *

High above them, astride her own much newer swoop, Aurra Sing waited for the pair to reemerge from behind several buildings. She'd been waiting for them to clear the residential structures so she could set up an unimpeded shot at Skywalker. The way they were weaving between the housing units made this impossible. She could keep them in her sights for only a few seconds at a time.

With a Jedi target, she needed to be certain of her aim. The trajectory had to be clean. She would only get one chance to take him unawares.

It needed to come soon, too. With every minute that passed she ran the risk that he would sense past her mental shielding.

Amidala didn't really play into the equation, though killing her would be easy enough. There was only one drawback – no money. Senators pulled in huge credits in this political climate – _if_ one could score a hit from a benefactor who was certain to pay up.

No, Amidala shouldn't die if it was avoidable. There might be money to be made in killing her later. Assuming she didn't die on Naboo.

Aurra wondered for a few idle moments if the toxin had yet been released on the world below.

Where were they? They should be back in her sights by now.

She rose up on her toes in the saddle of the swoop, trying to see over the domed tops of the housing units.

A high-pitched whine pierced the silence. A repulsorlift engine? Now that would be an exciting twist.

She pressed the charger to arm the small missile weapons on her own vehicle. No point in being silent now. Her bike was whisper quiet compared to whatever was making that awful racket.

Just a moment later Skywalker and Amidala maneuvered out from behind the building on what looked to be an antiquated speeder bike. It took off towards the residential transport hub.

Anticipation flooded Aurra's veins as she accelerated to follow. A chase, even one she could easily win, was much more challenging than a simple sniper shot. She powered her own engine down in an effort to keep the older vehicle at a respectable distance.

The goggles protecting her eyes had a built in targeting system tied to the speeder's missile system. Bright crosshairs formed a white x that stood out starkly against the amber tint of the lenses.

It was regrettable that these rockets were her only means to take out a speeder bike. So much for _not_ killing Senator Amidala.

* * *

Padmé had tried hard to keep breathing room between herself and Anakin, but once the swoop started moving inertia had pulled her back into the comfortable curve of his body.

It felt sweet, and safe, and so very wrong.

He was a Jedi and that wasn't going to change. She wouldn't let it change.

"Where are we going?" The question came in a husky baritone from someplace above and behind her.

"Southeast. The small transport platform closest to the city." She had to turn her face toward his to be heard over the speeder's engine. They were so close her cheek came within a hair's breadth of brushing the leather of his overtunic. She closed her eyes and turned her face back into the wind.

They should be leaving the residential sector any time now, meaning the solitude of her shuttle was near. Anakin could be on his way and she could prepare herself to face –

An inquiry. Why, oh why, had she left her ship and crew to come here? She couldn't imagine any move more foolish than the one she had made hours before. And it had all been for nothing. A manufactured distress call. The oldest trick in the tomes.

Her chief of security and her handmaidens would be angry and rightfully so. Queen Jamilla was likely to be beyond furious. Hadn't she just called Padmé irreplaceable in the Senate? Invaluable to Naboo?

Oh yes. The Senator from Naboo would be called on the carpet over this one.

Up ahead Padmé saw the domed buildings start to thin out. For a brief irrational moment she considered whether her little shuttle could take her all the way to Malastare.

__

Of course not! Was she out of her mind, considering something like that? Jamilla's rage could only last so long. There would still be work to do for the Republic – peace, unity, the end of the War. And for Naboo, as well. Right now, tracing the source of this outbreak was her priority.

For the first time since waking in Anakin's arms, it occurred to Padmé that he might know something new. Had being close to him muddled her mind so much that she hadn't asked him already?

If she'd been looking for confirmation that they shouldn't be in close quarters, that had to be it! Nothing mattered when they were together. Not the war, or the attack on Ohma D'un, or Naboo, or… well, anything. It had to be the same for Anakin. No matter who initiated their earlier kiss, he had been a more than willing participant.

But Padmé couldn't think about that now. Nor could she think about the solid strength of him behind her. Or the warmth she felt every place that their bodies touched. Or the strong arm around her waist. The arm around her waist? When had that happened?

She struggled against it, but Anakin's hold was firm.

"Easy." He muttered above her ear. "I can't have you falling off the bike."

Was she imagining things, or was he resting his chin on her head?

She looked up again, panic building inside her. They had just cleared the buildings and the landing zone wasn't far off. She could see the tiny outline of her shuttle, the silvery surface doing its best to reflect the quickly fading daylight. _It isn't far_, she decided, her fingers walking along the sleeve of his arm and into the line of skin between glove and hem, tracing the firm knot of tightening muscles. _A minute or so ahead…_

Above her, Anakin exhaled in a long shuddering breath and Padmé realized what she was doing. She snatched her hand away as if she had been touching fire. She turned away but all around her was him. She couldn't breathe. She literally couldn't breathe.

"Anakin, let me go," she gasped.

"We're almost there. A minute ahead," his soothing tenor replied, echoing her own thoughts. His voice was a thread of shivers running up and down her spine. The urge to turn and capture that voice with her mouth was overwhelming. Her heart exploded in spangles of panic.

A minute would be too long!

"Anakin! Move your arm!" She did the only thing she could think of that might force him to let her go. She grabbed the steering column.

She couldn't say what happened first. The speeder bike dipped. Anakin's arm tightened. A flash of light. A wave of heat. An explosion. Water.

For the second time that day everything went black.

* * *

On her way through the settlement Barriss used an up-linked datapad to find Anakin. His Jedi transponder signal wasn't hard to locate, but she was surprised to find he wasn't anywhere near the community center that had been the origin of the distress call. Instead, he was tracking quickly – too fast to be on-foot – toward the outskirts of the colony. She tried the COM-link again to no avail. Why didn't he answer?

She quickened her pace, more than a little annoyed that the science vessel they'd been assigned didn't have reconnaissance transportation. Over the last few minutes she'd been seized by a sudden sense of urgency – the feeling she had to find Anakin _now_. Dropping into the Force for additional speed and direction, she was soon running headlong, her dark cape streaming behind her.

Abandoning conscious thought for a deeper awareness, she skirted obstacles with leaps and flips, putting them behind her with blinding speed. Corpses, abandoned droids, railings, stairs, low walls, all were beneath her notice. All that mattered was reaching Anakin as quickly as possible. She paid no heed to the sudden silent flashing of her COM-link.

* * *

Trapped emotions rattled in the cage of Anakin's heart as Padmé's slender fingers beat a tattoo into his wrist. He shuddered violently, his muscles clenching as he fought for control over his body and his heart. Did she know what she was doing to him? He was trying to focus, trying to hear the Force that was calling to him urgently. But how could he still his mind to listen, assaulted as it were with so much of her presence? Her softness and warmth lulled him. If he closed his eyes for a moment, he could almost imagine that they were riding the shaak across the plains of Naboo once more, could almost believe that there might still be a future for him and the sprite in his arms.

The illusion came to an abrupt halt when the world shifted. He felt the swoop dip as she grabbed the control yoke and instinctively his arm tightened around her. Anakin barely had time to curse himself for not anticipating Padmé's sudden move. There was a split second where everything seemed to freeze; he finally heard the warning the Force had been calling to him.

Above them, where they'd been only a breath ago, he heard the unmistakable scream of a missile. Almost before it registered a blast of accompanying heat threw them forward off the bike.

Time slowed as they fell, Padmé still locked tight under Anakin's arm. Clutching tight to the Force, his mind sought to slow their rapid descent. Despite his best efforts - and the cushion provided by the tall marsh grasses and shallow waters of the swamp - they landed with bone-jarring force.

Anakin was aware of the explosion that followed the wake of the abandoned speeder bike as he tried to get his bearings. And there was something else… another danger incoming.

Padmé lay half under him in the crushed watery grass, unconscious. He could sense that she was alive, but had no idea if she was injured. And there wasn't time to find out. He tried to move quickly, against an ache in his head that was making him dizzy.

Another swoop blazed in out of nowhere. The rider leapt off in a quick, fluid motion and Anakin caught the flash of a red flight suit. Pushing himself up and forcing his eyes to focus –

__

(he needed focus and he needed it now!)

– he reached for his lightsaber. As his hand closed around the cold metal cylinder the turquoise blade blazed to life.

He could see now, through the haze of pain, that the approaching humanoid was female, with a shock of long auburn hair erupting from a topknot on her otherwise bald head.

The flare of his lightsaber brought her to a sudden stop well outside his attack radius but there was no fear in the pitch black eyes that met his. In each of her long-fingered hands she carried twin heavy blasters; both were trained on him.

Straightening to his full height Anakin took stock of his opponent. He noted her unusual height – tall enough to meet his gaze directly. The crimson flight suit she wore fit close enough to show the contours of lean, strong muscles and its blood red color made an odd contrast to her death-white skin. Though Anakin took pride in his knowledge of alien life forms, he had no idea of her planet of origin.

Embedded in her skull was a small antenna – most likely a sensory implant. The only other items of potentially lethal importance were the long hunting rifle slung across her back and the sizeable vibroblade that she carried in her boot.

She eyed his lightsaber steadily, with none of the awe it typically inspired in non-Jedi.

Then, in a motion so fast it was hard to follow with his eyes, she shoved the two blasters into her thigh holsters. A feral grin curled her pale lips as she reached behind her and pulled out a shiny silver cylinder.

Surprise trickled through him as the lightsaber flared to jade-colored life in her hand. She shifted her stance to something that bespoke rudimentary training in his favorite Djem So fighting style.

A Jedi? She carried a Jedi weapon? He reached out through the Force and sensed…nothing. It was almost as if she was empty. Too empty. He probed deeper. There it was… a Force connection, but nothing like anything he'd ever felt before. There was no calm discipline, as in his Jedi comrades. There wasn't even any of the sinister power he'd felt while facing Dooku. This woman carried the Force unlike anyone he'd ever met; its presence was raw, untrained. Wild.

Though she faced him with a lightsaber, she was no Jedi.

His threat identified, the tunnel-vision focus of battle mode came to Anakin with the ease of long use. The throbbing in his head vanished as he slipped into an Ataro stance. Jedi or not, it was obvious she wasn't trained in lightsaber combat. He swallowed an amused laugh. So she wanted a duel?

He'd make sure it was brief.

* * *

It had taken Ferus longer than he would have liked to break through the security barriers in the Separatist's databank. Now flashing in front of him was all the information about the planned bio-attack on Naboo: from the co-ordinates of the capsules containing the fungus and the necessary chemical catalyst, the time of launch, the automated trajectory to Naboo, to the extent of damage anticipated.

For the zenith time Ferus tried Barriss's COM-link. Nothing. Anakin's again. Again nothing. Frustration was not a desirable emotion but it was far better than anxiety. He couldn't afford to get distracted by worries about anyone now. The stakes of this mission had just increased exponentially.

The scheme was fully automated. Once the capsules were released there'd be no way to stop them. Naboo had no surface to air missile defense, and the capsules themselves were too small for a fighter to track. The mind that had designed the scheme must have anticipated these things. Such ruthless proficiency aimed at widespread violence made Ferus's blood run cold.

The Jedi had less than ten minutes to prevent an apocalypse on the Supreme Chancellor's home world and since his colleagues were out of reach, Ferus accepted that it might be up to him alone. Dispelling his anxieties as best he could, he focused on the problem at hand. In his mind's eye, the information on the screen floated in his consciousness like separate links of a chain. Master Siri's method for counter-strategies was easier in theory than practice but it had never failed him, nor would it now.

__

Find the weakest link in the chain. Break it.

Ferus's eyes flew open. When he moved, it was at break-neck speed, storming out of the control and shimmying down the tower faster than the eye could blink.

In his mind, the count-down chrono had started ticking.

* * *


	11. Rules of Engagement

**CHAPTER X**

** Rules of Engagement**

The first thing to penetrate Padmé's awareness was the chill of the water that soaked her clothes.

The second was the muted hum of lightsabers. There was just something unique and unforgettable about that sound. For scant seconds she had the feeling of being on Geonosis again, surrounded by battle droids, certain she and Anakin and the Jedi circled with them were going to die. There was the same pulsing energy in the air. The same sense of stillness: an electric calm before the storm.

Reluctantly she opened her eyes.

Anakin stood a few meters away, knee-deep in the marsh grass. His back was to her, but she could see his lightsaber out and ready. His lean body was totally still and coiled as if to spring. Just beyond him was a pale skinned woman carrying a myriad of weapons. Padmé took stock of them all at once – the blasters, the rifle, the vibroblade and, most importantly, the emerald bladed lightsaber glimmering at the ready. The lightsaber should have marked her Jedi and ally, but there was nothing of serenity in her face or stance. Anakin's own demeanor made it clear that he didn't consider her a friend.

Padmé ran through her options in her mind. Lay here and watch events unfold. Get up and run for her ship. Try, somehow, to help Anakin.

There was no contest.

If she had been injured in the fall, she didn't feel it. On the contrary. With the possible exception of Kashyyyk, at this moment she felt more alive, more herself, than she had in months. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Padmé reached for the tiny blaster she had tucked in her boot. She moved with painstaking slowness, knowing better than to attract attention. Anakin was the only thing standing between her and a hostile lightsaber.

Anakin took several slow steps to the left, away from where Padmé lay watching. The woman followed him, moving to her own right to stay just outside of his weapon's reach. Padmé guessed he must be trying to move the fight away from where she lay. Well that was just too bad.

At last, Padmé felt her fingers touch cold, smooth metal and she inched her hand around the weapon.

As she pulled it slowly from her boot Anakin did the one thing he shouldn't have. He stepped cleanly between Padmé and the woman, blocking Padmé's only clear shot.

"So," Padmé heard the woman speak and resisted the urge to try and peer around Anakin. Her Basic was a heavily accented alto. "I find myself facing the galactic hero Anakin Skywalker. Who knew, all those years ago, that the little pod-racer slave boy would grow up to be a Jedi?"

* * *

Anakin was taken aback by the taunt and knew his face must have betrayed his surprise.

"You were quite gifted, you know. You could have had a profitable career ahead of you in those races." Her disparaging smile didn't reach her eyes.

"I'm still quite gifted." He flashed a malicious grin back at her. Underneath the brash veneer he was still furiously trying to work out how she knew about his past. Most Jedi outside the Council didn't know he'd been a slave, much less a pod racer. On the rare occasion a Jedi had a past, the Order was very careful to keep the information locked away.

"So your reputation would indicate. Still, it was a pity. Talent like that could have earned you a fortune." Her voice changed, became spiteful. "Instead you sold yourself back into slavery to the accursed Jedi Order."

Rage was a tightly leashed beast in Anakin's grip. "Who are you?" The question was a snarl.

The woman straightened, setting her shoulders proudly. "You don't recognize the scourge of the great Jedi Masters Anon Doonda, Talika Muun and Sharad Hett?" She indicated the lightsaber in her hand as she spoke the last name. "You aren't familiar with the galaxy's foremost executioner of Jedi Knights? What _do_ they teach Padawans these days?"

Cold shock temporarily doused the beast. Surely this woman wasn't, couldn't be…

"Aurra Sing," he hissed. "A murderer not worth the breath it takes to say her name."

"Murderer is a little harsh." She cocked her head to one side. "I prefer businesswoman."

__

"Murderer." Anger of another kind had risen in him. Cold, sharp anger that gave him focus. He searched his memory for anything about her that would help him keep an upper-hand.

Aurra Sing had been a Jedi, but not a typical crechéling. More like a rescued refugee in much the same way that Anakin had been. Nar Shaddaa and Tatooine had a lot in common when it came to its citizens. Then, at age nine, she had been killed during an away mission with her master. Only she hadn't been killed, as the Order discovered many years later when she returned to brutally murder the Jedi Master Anon Doonda. He'd been the first in a line of skilled Jedi to die at her hand. Anakin had always wondered how much of her reputation was based on fact and how much was exaggerated myth. Apparently, he was about to find out.

The fight was about to become deadlier. He needed to keep Aurra talking long enough to move it away from Padmé.

"How can you kill the Jedi, after all they did for you?" He forced himself to speak in a reasonable tone, feeling for a brief moment like Obi-Wan in the midst of a negotiation. "They could have left you to die on the streets of Nar Shaddaa."

"Don't speak to me of loyalty." Sing's eyes became pinpoints of hate. "The Jedi _did_ leave me to die. On Ord Namurt. For all their principled talk, they have no loyalty except to themselves. You might say it is the only Jedi lesson I took with me."

Anakin stepped left again, still in defensive stance. Sing followed. He only needed another meter to put a safe distance between any fighting and Padmé.

Just then a series of small but powerful blue pulses came from below and behind him. Sing's reflexes were lightning fast. She was gone almost before the sound of the weapon discharge. Anakin's eyes managed to follow her diagonal retreat. It wasn't difficult, as she had the highly visible green lightsaber angled to defend any blaster fire that might chase. She landed neatly, crouched behind her speeder bike as energy bolts ricocheted off the shiny finish.

Anakin knew without turning around where the blaster fire had originated. Padmé.

Padmé who had just placed herself in mortal peril by drawing attention to herself.

Anger drained out of Anakin, leaving a vacuum that was rapidly filled with fear: Fear for Padmé's safety that drew a tight band around his heart. Tempted as he was to follow Aurra Sing, this fear was stronger than his anger had been. Getting Padmé out of here had just become his first priority.

Without stopping to think, he dove toward Padmé. When she rose to her feet and began running ahead of him in the direction he indicated, he whispered his thankfulness to the Force. He knew Sing wouldn't be distracted long, but their best chance was to try to make it back to the edge of the residential district. Once they had some cover he'd be able to formulate a plan.

Even as he had the thought, bright orange blaster bolts peppered around them, hissing into the shallow water and wet grasses. Despite their lethal nature, Anakin felt another wave of gratitude that Sing had pulled out the hip blasters to try and hit them quickly. Hand-blasters were notoriously difficult to aim against moving targets. Had she'd pulled out the rifle and taken the time to aim, their chances of survival would have decreased significantly. When he'd seen it slung across her back, Anakin had recognized the gun as a long-range disintegration ray. One accurate shot would vaporize every molecule of fluid in a target's body. He shuddered even as he ran, keeping Padmé firmly in front of him. They weren't far now, mere seconds from the metal scaffolding and pillars that made up the foundation of the residential district platform.

The blaster bolts stopped and that band around his heart tightened.

"Keep moving! Don't stop!" He commanded, hoping Padmé could hear him. Evidently she had. She even quickened her pace.

Mentally, he ticked off the seconds it was taking Aurra to switch to the more powerful rifle… the time it was taking her to aim through a high-powered sight...

He pushed Padmé into the shadows under the platform and jumped after her a micro-second before the rifle crack sounded. The shot sizzled into a durasteel scaffold support behind him, but he didn't slow even as he rushed Padmé farther into the safety of the dark. A second shot followed and impacted one of the duracrete perimeter pillars. The moisture in the rock superheated, exploding in a shower of concrete. A third and final shot rang out, once again ringing against metal. Then nothing.

They kept moving through the maze of scaffolding and duracrete pillars. Anakin had stretched his awareness to track their adversary and he could feel Sing on the outer edges of his safety zone. Distant but deadly. He pushed ahead of Padmé, guiding her though the darkness. His heightened awareness extended to her and he could feel her presence as acutely as the rush of blood behind his ears. Her deep breaths were loud in his ears; the smell of her – sweat, and flowers and well, _Padmé_ – filled his nostrils.

They had been moving for long when Anakin finally told Padmé to stop. He reached out a hand in the darkness, his fist closing around her thick tunic. Whether she was more sensitive to his word or his touch he had no idea, but she stopped instantly. They were standing close now, the black silence around them broken only by their labored breaths and the lapping of water against their boots. His hand was still on her tunic and her skin was hot beneath it. The violent, upsetting, and totally inconvenient urge to kiss her rose and fell within him with each breath he took.

Finally he heard the whisper of sound that his heightened hearing had picked up. It echoed faintly from above. Footfalls. Someone was running along the platform, coming closer to where they hid beneath the metal barrier.

Anakin reached out with the Force. No, it wasn't Aurra Sing. This presence was steady and bright. Barriss!

He blinked into the darkness, making out the pattern to the grid of scaffold legs and pillars. Not too many meters distant was the outline of a dark ladder and he hoped fervently that it was a utility outlet to the residential district above.

Behind them he could sense the same dark intent that accompanied their pursuer.

He nodded at Padmé. "Follow me!" he whispered, "We've got to find a way up to street level. We're sitting ducks down here." He looked down at her and was unaccountably pleased that her expression was determined and strong. The weakness he had felt in her earlier was no more. He grinned at the blaster she still held ready in her hand.

Her lips twitched reluctantly with an answering smile and Anakin knew she was remembering Geonosis, their rapport during that battle. All the long months between then and now fell away and it was almost as if they were back in the arena with no thought but each other and surviving.

They had kissed for the second time just before that battle. At this moment, the memory of that kiss came to him with particular vividness and he looked away from Padmé, swallowing hard. His grin had faded. This closeness was sheer, exquisite torture.

The footsteps above them grew closer, slowed, stopped. Anxiety raced through Anakin as he sought some way to communicate the danger to Barriss. That Sing woman could be anywhere above or below. Surely any Jedi would be a target! He tugged at Padmé's sleeve, signaling it was time to move. He felt her hand take an answering hold on the hem of his own tunic – a tiny tremor passed beneath his skin – and he led her in the direction of that ladder.

* * *

Through the darkness under the platform Aurra Sing tracked her targets.

The Ansazi – the assassin culture who had raised her – had gifted her with a cyber implant; an internal sensor array that worked through the antenna projecting from her skull. Among its myriad functions, it served as a life-sign locator, a radar of sorts. Though she couldn't see Skywalker or the senator with her eyes, she could sense what direction they were headed. It might be enough to find them in the dark.

Aurra raised the rifle to her shoulder, supporting its long weight with one arm as she adjusted the targeting scope to a night vision setting. She raised the sight to her eye. Through the small display, the inky blackness became shades of gray. Pillars and scaffolding were visible as she tracked the muzzle of the weapon slowly and patiently in the direction of her two targets.

There it was. A flicker of movement. At this range it was impossible to distinguish the two moving shapes, but it had to be Skywalker and the senator. Carefully she took aim.

Suddenly the dark forms were replaced with a blinding white light! Aurra uttered a stream of Huttese curses as she dropped the rifle from her eye. They must've found an opening to the upper level. She assumed it had been a sliver of dimming daylight that had all-but blinded her. Waiting for her vision to return she heard the faint click of a hatch latching shut.

No telling how quickly Skywalker would move once he made it topside. It was time for yet another change of plans. She turned and headed back towards her swoop.

* * *

Barriss checked her scanner again. This couldn't be right. According to the reading, Anakin should be standing here, looking her in the eye. His Jedi tracking signal moved left, away from her. She looked around, puzzled. She could _feel _Anakin's familiar presence and something, some_one_, else. Two someones, as a matter of fact. One close by and one… _strange_.

Just ahead of her a maintenance hatch opened in the middle of the street. A dark haired woman crawled out, followed by Anakin!

Relief flooded through her as Anakin looked around cautiously. He spotted her and smiled broadly.

"Barriss!" He exclaimed, taking the hand of the young woman and pulling her to Barriss's side. Their breathing was as labored as Barriss's own, their faces flushed with exhaustion.

She studied the other woman for a moment. With no makeup and her hair disheveled, she almost didn't recognize Senator Amidala of Naboo!

"Senator! What are you doing here?"

The Senator's brown eyes flashed with annoyance. "Must everyone ask me that question?"

Barriss couldn't help it. She burst out laughing. She would have been put off by the other woman's rudeness if she had not understood it completely. In the days after Luminara's death, she had longed to respond to every polite inquiry about how she was doing just as Amidala had responded to her question. It must not be the first time today that question had been asked.

Discreetly, Barriss studied the woman. It was the first time she had met the famous politician in person. Up close, Amidala looked a lot younger and physically smaller than her accomplishments and renowned charismatic presence usually led one to believe. Her aura was unique: a juxtaposition of fiery passion and cool, almost cold apathy.

As Master Luminara had trained her, Barriss registered all this in less than a second; then she gave her attention to Anakin, who seemed to be taking careful stock of their surroundings.

"Anakin, what is going on? I've been trying to reach you by COM link for over an hour!"

"I promise I'll tell you the entire story just as soon as we've the Senator to safety." He sounded satisfied with his answer. "You need to take her back to her ship and her get her to the planet. Her ship is on a platform out there." He motioned towards the marshes, pointedly ignoring the Senator's warning glare.

Barriss stared. "Anakin, what are you talking about? What about the Gungan child?"

"There was no child. It was a trap. Just as you suspected."

"A trap? For whom? Senator Amidala?"

"No. I think she stumbled into it. I believe it was meant for us."

"For us?"

"For Jedi."

"Anakin!" Barriss was fast becoming impatient with his short answers. "A trap for Jedi? Here on Naboo's colony moon?" The more he explained, the more confusing things became.

"Look," Anakin said, "we've got to get the Senator to safety. We're being chased by Aurra Sing."

The name turned Barriss's blood cold. There wasn't a Jedi alive who wouldn't recognize it.

Suddenly the third strange presence in her awareness was explained. Now that Barriss knew to look for it, she could distinctly feel Sing lurking in the shadows, wild, deadly.

Sing _had_ to be contained but-

"But Anakin, this isn't about Sing!" Barriss said urgently. "The attack on Ohma D'un was just a test. Naboo itself is the real target!"

"Naboo!" Senator Amidala, who had until now been thoughtfully watching the interaction between the two Jedi, reacted at once to the mention of her homeworld. "Naboo is to be attacked? How? When?"

Barriss mentally slapped herself on the forehead. Who else would be more receptive to her news of the impending attack on Naboo than the world's own Senator? She shifted her attention from Anakin to Amidala, speaking rapidly as she pleaded her cause. "The devastation up here was just a front. We believe the Separatists plan to release the same biological weapon on Naboo. In fact, we believe it is already in place."

As the meaning of Barriss's words soaked in, Amidala's brown eyes widened in a kind of horrified outrage. "What can we do?" she asked at once.

Anakin made an impatient noise. "_You_ aren't doing anything! Barriss, take Amidala back to Naboo. Her Excellency needs to be kept safe." He looked down at the Senator, who was looking up at him furiously.

"But Anakin –" Barriss tried to interject, only to have Anakin cut her off again.

Urgently he said, "You know the importance that is placed on a Senator's life." Barriss knew, but she could see in Anakin's desperate eyes that to him, Amidala wasn't just _any_ Senator. The concern she sensed emanating from him – no, it was more than concern. It was fear. And it was overwhelming. Painful. She winced at the weight of it.

"Don't I have a say in this?" Amidala asked; her eyes were flashing again. "In case you have forgotten, I _am_ a Senator of the Galactic Republic."

"We are in a war zone, Senator," Anakin snapped. "According to the Rules of Engagement practiced since the beginning of the Republic and re-enforced by the Military Act decreed by the Supreme Chancellor, you have no jurisdiction here."

Right or not, his rudeness was appalling. Barriss glanced askance at Amidala, wondering how the Senator would react.

Strangely, Amidala seemed unaffected by it. Her voice, as she spoke to Anakin, was extraordinarily calm. "Assuming that I would agree to take orders from you," Anakin's jaw clenched, "what makes you think that I will be any safer on Naboo?" Her voice softened, became beseeching. "_Naboo_ is the target for the attack. This is the safest place I can be, and in the best position to help."

The Senator's logic was quite faultless and Anakin realized that, if the way the muscle that pulsed in his jaw was any indication. "You have a ship in orbit, don't you? You can stay there, where it's safe."

"If they haven't come after me yet then Queen Jamillla must have ordered them to land on Naboo. And even if she hasn't," she continued, over-riding the beginning of his retort, "Anakin, be rational about this. I spearheaded the colonization of this moon. I know the terrain. I can be of help. By the Stars, I am the Senator of Naboo! It is my _duty _to help."

Something indecipherable flickered on Anakin's face. "Of. Course." He all but gritted out the words. "After all, when _duty_ and _rationality_ are involved, what other choices are we left with?"

Amidala paled. "Anakin, this is my home!"

It didn't seem possible but her words served to infuriate Anakin even further. "And you'd sacrifice your life for it. You'd sacrifice _everything _for it!" He roared.

Barriss had seen grown Knights cower beneath Anakin's rage. Amidala's chin trembled but she didn't back down. The little slip of a woman matched Anakin volume for volume. "If I have to, I will!"

Barriss felt invisible, confused and overwhelmed. Tension had risen between Anakin and the Senator like a river of thick, molten metal at high tide. Beneath the fiery surface lurked emotions too wild and too dangerous to be approached. Just standing at the shore, Barriss felt the sting of the flames in her own eyes.

"_Strong emotions hinder reason. For others you should be a channel, never a basin. One cool head must remain, and that cool head should be yours." _

Barriss breathed deeply, obeying the memory of her Master's words. She made herself a gentle drizzle to the fiery blaze around her. A drizzle could hardly quench an inferno but at least, she had created a shelter for herself.

The other two had not broken their deadlock. Bravely, Barriss said firmly, "Anakin, Senator Amidala, we are running out of time. The Senator's suggestion is the best."

It was Anakin who broke the stare.

"Of course it is. They usually are for the _best_." He all but spat out the words, turning away from Amidala as if he could no longer bear to look at her. "I'm leaving her in your charge," he instructed Barriss.

She barely heard him. His back was to Amidala and so only Barriss saw the way the Senator's now white face jerked, as if recoiling from an invisible blow, the stricken look in her eyes at Anakin's words. For a moment, her eyes met with Barriss's and the Mirilian swallowed against the sudden, painful lump in her throat.

"…o_r failing that, be a dam."_

Anakin's own face seemed carved out of ferro-granite, his eyes were like knives, his body a long, furious rod. "You will both leave now. I have to track Sing down before she catches up to us all."

Before Barriss could object, Amidala said sharply, "You're taking an unnecessary risk. Our chances are better against Sing if we stick together."

With a thrill of shock, Barriss noticed that the Senator face had fallen back into its usual cool, placid lines. If not for the low, long cry of such beseeching anguish in the Force, the moment of visible emotion might have been Barriss's own imagination. As it was, it was a wonder that Amidala was not keeling over from her own pain.

"I don't take orders from you, Senator," Anakin replied coolly, pointedly not looking at her. "Aurra Sing is a wanted criminal and a dangerous Force adept. Left unchecked, Force knows what scheme she might use to sabotage your plans. It is my _duty_ to stop her," he concluded bitingly. His aura was burning with equal torment; his own emotions were clearly preventing him from feeling Amidala's pain.

It was Amidala's turn to look resentful at the truth of Anakin's words. Between them, that molten river was spitting out tongues of fire, threatening to scorch anything within reach, Barriss's safe shelter included. There was nothing she wanted to do more than to get away from both of them.

* * *

What was going on down there?

From a nearby rooftop Aurra Sing watched with a pair of macro-binoculars and a fount of impatience as the Jedi and Senator Amidala held their council of war.

She didn't bother with her shields anymore. Now that Skywalker was aware of her presence on the moon, he could easily see past them and track her down anywhere within mental distance. That was all right with Aurra: it was part of her plan. What she hadn't counted on was patience.

Frustration was like a string in one of Dooku's archaic weapons that had been pulled taut and deadly – only to be snipped with a pair of scythes before it had released one arrow. After getting so close to Skywalker only to be thwarted first by a mere _senator_, then by the sudden appearance of the Mirialan Jedi, the temptation for Aurra to just unleash herself on all three was strong. But she held herself back.

She hadn't survived this long in her line of business by allowing personal emotions cloud her judgment.

Finally the trio seemed to come to a decision because Senator Amidala and the Mirialan Jedi started moving. Skywalker remained. He looked after the two until the other Jedi's quick strides had carried her and the Senator round a corner and out of site. Aurra's cyber implant tracked them for much longer, making sure that she was not being set up for an ambush.

"You can come out now, Sing."

It was not a shout. Yet his voice seemed to reverberate right in her eardrum.

So her plan had worked. Skywalker had acted exactly as she anticipated. Sensing her presence, he had chosen to meet her one-on-one rather than safely going along with the other Jedi. The fact that she had predicted him correctly was both a source of satisfaction and fury to her.

Arrogant Jedi! She would cut down all of them down like so many flies.

Taking her time, still alert for any traps, Aurra stepped to the edge of the rooftop and dropped to the street below. As she moved to him, the jade blade came to life in her hand.

In a quick leap, Skywalker crossed the meters between them and was right in front of her. She tensed, watching him as he balanced lightly on the balls of his feet, and crossed his arms. His lightsabre hung inactive at his belt. His whole demeanor was so casual that all the warning bells in Aurra's head clanged.

"Either you ran out of ammunition for your rifle or you're even smarter than I thought." His voice was conversational.

Aurra favored him with a thin smile. "I don't have the benefit of your Jedi over-confidence. I'm not stupid enough to engage two Jedi at once. But don't worry, once I'm done with you, I'll take on your Mirialan friend, just for a bonus." She angled her blade so that it pointed down and to her left.

"A bonus?" One eyebrow lifted lazily. "Does that make me something special?"

"Apparently, you're a thorn in the Separatist's side," Aurra said, matching his casualness. She took a step closer.

"The Confederacy hired you?"

Her smile broadened. "Now that would be telling." And she struck, her blade slashing up into his torso.

She had done extensive research on Skywalker's fighting techniques. His offensive was almost impenetrable but his defense was weak on his right side. It probably had something to do with his mechanical hand. That was how Prax had injured him on Thule. That was how he was going to die now.

In the split-second before her blade completed its fatal arc, Aurra permitted herself a full smile. Like every Jedi she had met before, Skywalker's arrogance had been his undoing. He thought he had been lulling her into a false sense of calm with conversation; but all the while, she had been turning the tables on him. Now, no matter how quickly he drew his weapon, they were so near that her blade could not fail to cause him grievous injury.

Time didn't slow. In Aurra's eyes, the tip of the blade had already entered Skywalker's ribs. So when her curving wrist met the shock of resistance, there was a wild moment when she thought his lungs were cybernetic as well.

"It seems that your reputation is exaggerated."

Aurra shifted her gaze from Skywalker's cold eyes to the point at the right side of his body where her blade had struck –

The tang of superheated steel filled the air. Shreds of cloth and metal scattered like refracted light.

Skywalker hadn't drawn his own blade. He hadn't had time. He had drawn his _right arm_. Her weapon had cut through the glove and melded against the durasteel metal.

It had taken her seconds to register this; and those precious seconds were enough for Skywalker to flex his arm such that the cylinder flew out of her grip and rolled into the sand, deactivating as it did so. Instinctively, her hand reached for her blaster at her hip and gloved metal digits clamped around her wrist – and closed. The tiny bones in Aurra's wrist fused.

Pain blossomed in her mind. The blaster hung limply for a second and then it fell between them as her fingers opened. Skywalker's boot sent it flying after the lightsaber.

__

This can't be happening!

She raised her knee to kick him and for her pains was rewarded with a boot in her stomach; she doubled over. His grip tightened further and she fell to her knees with a low moan.

A lesser being would have been screaming. Aurra certainly couldn't fight the tears that fell. Shock warred with the pain in her mind. She could not remember a time when she had been so badly – so _easily _– outmaneuvered.

Almost as if he could read her mind, Skywalker said, "I told you I was gifted, Jedi killer. So let's try it again, who hired you?"

Again he used the Force to augment his voice: the sinisterly quiet question reverberated from ear to ear. A little louder and a blood vessel in her head would explode. She resisted the urge to scream or worse, yield. Instead, she focused on working her free hand as slowly as she could across her body to the blaster on her other hip.

"What are you going to do, Jedi?" She snarled through her pain and humiliation. "Kill me?"

The silence that followed was more ominous than a shouted threat. Aurra raised her eyes. Above her, Skywalker loomed, his face dark against the backlight, menace radiating from him so strongly that she could all but smell it.

"You're a Jedi," she rasped, her hand still making slow but steady progress. She was _not _pleading.

His smile was positively macabre. "And you're a Jedi killer."

Like a frightened voorpak, her hand stalled its motion. For the first time in a long time, Aurra felt fear.

"Who. Hired. You?"

Aurra swallowed hard. "Y-you might as well kill me Skywalker. Because if I told you who did, I'm as good as dead."

The expression on his face changed subtly and she could tell that he was trying to gauge if she was telling the truth. His eyes bored into hers, searching. She could feel a mental grip latching onto her mind and try as she could, she couldn't fight it off.

Then he let her go. His face glowed with iridescent blue. His lightsabre was alive in his hand. His eyes were the same color as the weapon. Her fate was written in both gaze and blade.

He raised the blade high in the air and his figure was bathed in the bright, merciless blue.

"As you wish."

* * *


	12. Eclipse

**CHAPTER XI**

** Eclipse**

Ferus ran through Ohma D'un's deserted residential streets heading in the direction of the first capsule he needed to disarm. As he ran he reached out with the Force, trying to touch Barriss's mind with his own. His attempts to reach her or Anakin via the COM link had been to no avail and his sense of urgency was increasing. There were two launch points for the contaminant capsules here on the colony moon for two different targets on Naboo itself. He would only be able to reach one. He prayed he could disarm it in time.

Why didn't Barriss answer? Especially now when he – when the Jedi – needed her help more than ever!

He stopped for a second, not because he was winded, but to try to contact her one last time. To his surprise, he saw his COM link flashing.

He took a deep breath and answered with forced composure. "Olin."

"Ferus!" It was Barriss. Overwhelming relief flooded him. He exhaled slowly, trying to release the frustration that had been building since he'd first been unable to contact her. "What is –"

He cut her short. "Barriss, there are two missiles set to deliver the toxin to the surface of Naboo. They could launch at any time."

There was a beat during which he could almost hear her process the information, then she said at once, "What do we need to do?"

He stiffened. "Is Skywalker with you?"

"No. Senator Amidala is."

Ferus started. _What?_ A Senator in a crisis zone? "What is she –"

It was Barriss's turn to cut him off. "She seems quite determined to help. What do we need to do?" She repeated.

He told her. "You have to find a way to get to the other side of the colony and stop the second missile from launching. Check your datapad. I've uploaded the coordinates, the target information and the disarming instructions already. I did the same for Skywalker, not that I expect him to turn up to help." He had no idea why he'd tacked on that last bit. He'd been doing so well where Skywalker was concerned. It was just that the other Padawan always disappeared at the critical point of any mission.

"He can't. He's chasing down Aurra Sing. She was sent by the separatists to kill us." Her words were matter-of-fact, as if this kind of development was commonplace, but there was worry in her voice.

Ferus was more than worried. First a Senator in a crisis zone? Then a known bounty hunter and Jedi killer on Ohma D'un?? "Barriss, what is going on?"

She sighed. "You'll get a full explanation later, I promise. Anakin is trying to contain Sing, to keep her from interfering. Senator Amidala and I are at her craft. If we take it, we can get there almost immediately."

He was far from satisfied but she was right, there was no time. "All right. I'll keep on to the first launch site." He swallowed. There wasn't anything else to say, except… "May the Force be with you."

She echoed the blessing and the COM went quiet.

Ferus hesitated. Skywalker was pursuing a very deadly assassin. One with a track record for killing Jedi. Part of him felt he should – no, part of him wanted to go help, but right now that just wasn't an option. The lives of Naboo citizens were at stake; more so with every passing second.

He set out again at a run, going full out, sprinting across walkways, shimmying along low rooftops with cat feet. He sensed it before he was even aware of it – first a small tingling, then an increasingly loud tolling in his head. He ignored it, thinking it was only his urgency about the capsules urging him on.

He dropped from a low, unsteady riser to the street below and…

…and stopped as abruptly as if he had run into a brick wall. Every hair at the back of his neck stood.

Aurra Sing, Ferus recognized at once. Her wild, untamed presence was a dark whirlpool of anger and fear in his consciousness. Ferus felt almost sick with repulsion as he stared at the Dark Jedi, killer of Jedi Masters Sharad Hett, Peerce, and J'Mikel, who was on her knees before Skywalker…

…Skywalker who stood with his lightsabre drawn high above his head, his intent as clear as if his weapon was shouting, screaming as it cut an arc through the dead air from over his head to the base of Aurra's neck.

"Skywalker, stop!"

Ferus had bellowed the command long before he even knew he was going to.

Inches from the tip of Aurra's ear, the blade stilled.

The second that followed seemed to stretch forever. Even the Force was quiet.

"Olin. It's under control."

The cold, clear voice was almost unrecognizable as Skywalker's. Ferus paid him no heed, moving closer. What he saw with his own eyes was nothing compared to what he was seeing with the Force. He could _feel_ the reverberations in the Force – the aftertaste of spite, anger, fear, bloodlust – on his skin. It made him even more nauseous. There had been a duel here… and Skywalker had won.

Skywalker had _won_ so what was he…?

"I said – stay back!" Skywalker barked and Ferus jumped. Trepidation was a cold sheen on his skin.

Which made no sense whatsoever! Why should he fear Skywalker? This was wrong! A wrongness that was so in tune with the Dark Side that Ferus felt like throwing up. It was understandable that it would be near Sing – she was a powerful Dark Jedi; but Ferus could feel those Dark tendrils hovering around… _within?_ … Skywalker.

"Skywalker, don't do this," Ferus said urgently.

The blade tip trembled, almost touching Aurra where she huddled prone before the other man.

"Olin," Skywalker said warningly but the lines of Darkness around him were wavering, as if he was hesitating.

Ferus braved closer, noting the way Skywalker stiffened. He was close enough now to see that the tuft of hair on Aurra Sing's skull was blue. She raised her face to him and he saw that the bounty hunter was weeping. His head spun.

"Skywalker, what have you done?" he whispered.

The anger from the other Padawan almost blasted Ferus off his feet. For a few seconds Ferus was actually Force-blind.

"Stay - _Arrgggh!_"

In his momentary blindness and overcome by nausea, Ferus had failed to see his own danger until he felt it. Fire exploded in his leg and the ground rushed up to meet him. From the corner of his eye, he saw the sparks as a lightsabre struck the ground.

_"Chuuba!"_

Still on the ground, Ferus called his own weapon to his hand, and struggled to his feet. Almost immediately, the searing pain in his knee brought him down even more violently to the ground. Faintly, he was aware of Sing rising to her feet and running, spitting blaster fire over his head. He looked up just in time to see the beams strike the riser he had dropped from seconds ago, causing it to disengage from its joint and start flying to his body. He raised his hand seconds before it fell on him and it halted, vibrating in his tenuous grip.

"Better look to your friend, Skywalker!" Sing howled.

Sweat beaded on Ferus's face as he tried to concentrate… He dropped his lightsabre so he could hold back the large block of durasteel with both hands but it was not enough. It trembled in his mental grip, shuddered, and finally broke through his focus. When it started falling, it fell fast, its shadow spreading over him. It was too large for him to roll away from underneath, too heavy not to crush him into powder when it smashed into him.

_There was no emotion, only peace; no ignorance, only knowledge; no death only the – _

- only the riser halting in mid-air. It groaned loudly as it moved laterally and crashed into the ground, mere inches from his face. A cloud of dust rose and blinded him. He coughed. Never had he been so grateful to eat sand.

"How badly are you hurt?"

Ferus looked away from his near-tomb to the scowl on Skywalker's face. He would have jumped away if he wasn't lying down.

"Can you sit up?" Skywalker asked impatiently. His voice was its familiar irritable tone. Sing was a rapidly shrinking speck on Ferus's consciousness and Skywalker now seemed as – as close to normal as Skywalker was capable of seeming, which was not really saying much. Still, the strange nausea had left Ferus; it had been conveniently replaced by the magnified burning in his knee.

Keeping a wary eye on the other man, Ferus tried to sit up. He winced as he did so, holding his right knee with both hands as he dragged his leg along with him.

Two hands – one flesh, one with a tattered glove hanging from even more battered metal – helped him. The metal fingers were blackened, and twitching. Sing's blaster must have shot through the wrist mechanism of Skywalker's artificial hand at close range. Ferus gritted his teeth at the other's ungentle fingers as he ripped aside Ferus's pants leg and prodded the blaster wound. There were twin circles of cauterized flesh on either side of his knee; the tattered cloth bore scant traces of dark red.

Skywalker whistled. "Good aim. Straight through the joint. Probably hurts like hell. Serves you right."

Ferus was almost speechless with outrage. Almost.

"I stopped you from killing a defenseless prisoner! You had defeated her and you were-"

"Right, she was defenseless," Skywalker scoffed. "Completely defenseless. So damn defenseless that she took you down with one shot and damaged my hand with another. Again. You-" and he said something else in Huttese that sounded particularly obscene.

"Watch your mouth!"

"You watch it – and shut it while you're at it. You'd better hope that I've sensed right and she ran off for good. Thanks to your stupidity, you are now lame and I'm the one who gets stuck with carrying you to Barriss with _one_ hand!"

Like a punctured balloon, Ferus's indignation deflated at once. He pictured the scenario: Skywalker lugging him to Barriss like one more of the Chosen One's many rescued victims; the look of pity on Barriss's face for _him_ and then the one of adoration for Skywalker.

Blood rushed flooded Ferus's cheeks so fiercely that he felt them burn. Skywalker gave him a piercing look and belatedly, Ferus raised his shields.

There was a horrible pause. Ferus glared at Skywalker defiantly, daring the other Jedi to say anything.

But Skywalker had turned back to Ferus's knee. He closed his eyes, concentrating and Ferus felt a sudden sensation – or rather loss of sensation – as the pain gradually muted into a low throb.

"Thanks," he muttered through gritted teeth.

Skywalker looked at him with a strange hybrid of contempt and sympathy that made Ferus even more furious. It wasn't like if he couldn't have done that himself! Yet when the other man spoke, the nasty edge in his voice had dissipated a little and his words were crisp and business-like. "The Separatists have planned an attack on Naboo-"

"I know," Ferus said, too relieved at the change of topic to even be furious with himself for momentarily forgetting the primary issue. "There are two capsules to be detonated. Barriss and Senator Amidala have gone for the one farthest away."

Skywalker's face darkened at that. Ferus ignored the other Padawan's characteristic and irrational mood swings. The old sense of urgency was filling him again as he elaborated further: "I have the location of the other one. It's a standard surface-to-space missile system disguised as an observatory on the edge of the colony." He nodded to the east, where a tall silo dwarfed the structures around it.

Skywalker's gaze followed Ferus's. "How much time do we have?" he asked tersely.

Ferus gave him his best estimate, based on the information he'd retrieved, and at that moment he realized what the other was thinking – and what, he Ferus should have realized. The second location wasn't far, but even so time was too short for Skywalker to afford the liability of carrying him along.

"When you get there, you'll know what to do," Ferus said, resignedly.

Skywalker looked at him thoughtfully. "And in the meantime what will you be doing? Moon-bathing?"

Ferus resisted the urge to retort with equal sarcasm. "I'll only slow you down. Just go." Duty came first. He, Ferus, won't have hesitated.

Skywalker made a barking noise of contempt. "_You _slow _me_ down? Don't flatter yourself, Olin."

And before Ferus could make sense of any of it to form a protest, the other Padawan had pulled him up, carrying him across his back like a sack of Daluvian grain. His shout of outrage was carried away by the wind as Skywalker took off at a run, all but flying with Force-enhanced speed.

* * *

Padmé and Padawan Offee were out of the ship almost before it could settle onto the marshy grass on the other side of the settlement from where they had left Ferus. With any luck they wouldn't come back and find it sunk in the swamp, but there wasn't time to worry about that now.

It had only taken minutes to cross the colony in the small craft, but according to the Separatist plans on Barriss Offee's datapad, even that might ultimately prove to have been too great a delay.

According to the information Ferus transferred, a nearby planetary observation tower had been secretly converted into the missile launch base that would be the origin of the impending attack on Naboo.

With haste and not much care for safety, Padmé did her best to keep up with Offee over the wet marsh grasses until they reached a ladder that would take them up to street level once more.

The Jedi was fast, and Padmé could tell Padawan Offee was holding back to allow her to keep up. While she appreciated the concession, the knowledge made her push herself harder. Once this was all over and she made it back to Coruscant, she resolved to take better care of herself. Anakin had fallen behind as well, to keep up with her when they were being chased by Aurra Sing. Aurra Sing whom he was now hunting down…

Padmé fought back the tiny pinpricks of fear in her heart, glancing uneasily at the Jedi. Since they'd left Anakin, Barriss Offee had only spoken to give an instruction or to answer a direct question. It was possible she was merely preoccupied, but Padmé had the strangest feeling the other woman was trying very hard not to talk to her at all. Which was not surprising considering that little scene Padmé and Anakin had displayed before the other Jedi.

_"After all, when duty and rationality are involved, what other choices are we left with?" _

If Anakin had taken his lightsabre and stabbed her, he could not have hurt her more effectively.

The look in his eyes… his voice… He had turned his eyes from her as if he couldn't stand looking at her. She had stood with him in the dark maze of scaffolding, burningly aware of his hand on her back, and wondered how she would stop herself from reaching out for him, from turning to that sweet sense of completeness that she seemed to get from only Anakin Skywalker.

Moments later, he was talking to her as if he hated her.

_"And you'd sacrifice your life for it. You'd sacrifice everything for it!" _

Padmé's grip on the rungs tightened as she pulled herself up viciously.

Yes, she would. That was the only thing she had, wasn't it? She had no right to Anakin and his devotion, his desire to protect her from her duty. She hadn't _asked_ for his devotion – nor had she asked for this fear that filled her at the thought of him going after that bounty hunter alone. She certainly did not _want_ this hollowness in herself, this empty space of broken dreams, of painful, bleeding longing that was waiting for him to never fill.

After a minute that seemed like an eternity they reached a two-story cylindrical structure that housed an enormous telescope for interplanetary observation. The Gungans on Naboo had no interest in space or planetary systems, but Padmé remembered being amused when the moon colonists had instantly taken an interest in exploring the galaxy beyond their home world. They had built the observation towers at opposite ends of the colony almost before the first residences were complete. Padmé remembered visiting one of the towers – she couldn't remember if this was the one - on the christening day of the new colony.

The Jedi glanced at her datapad again, then surprised Padmé by speaking. "The turret is at the top of the structure." She shook her head as she read the information. "According to this, getting inside won't help. We need to be up there." She motioned upward with her hand.

Padmé circled the structure, quickly finding a maintenance ladder.

"Over here!" she summoned Padawan Offee and the other woman came at once. She saw the ladder and immediately started climbing. Padmé followed. They made it to the top and stepped off onto a narrow maintenance ledge that encircled the domed roof. It wasn't very big, only about five meters across, with the dome projecting up another several meters.

"What now?" Padmé asked.

"We need to find a way to open the telescope hatch doors." Offee replied, looking around for some sort of maintenance access panel.

Almost as if they had willed it, there was a grinding noise as two large panels on the dome slid apart to reveal… not the skyward-cast eye of a telescope, but the wide barrel of a surface-to-space missile launcher.

Padmé's heart clenched. Without thinking, her gaze followed the trajectory of the weapon up into the darkening heavens. Above them, the planet Naboo filled the sky. The part still touched by the sun was a glorious, vivid blue, but as Padmé watched she could see the shadow of the terminator as it crept across the planet surface, casting the rest of the world into ever-growing night. There were families down there putting children to bed, unaware of the danger lurking above them.

Her breath caught and she looked back at Offee. Time had run out. They had to act now.

The Jedi's eyes met her own and Padmé noticed for the first time that they were bright blue. Not the paler colour of Anakin's, but exactly the same shade as the vivid sun-kissed surface of Naboo that her own eyes had just left. They were filled with the same dread she knew must be showing in her own face.

"Stay here." Offee's command was terse and Padmé didn't have a chance to respond before she saw the Padawan execute a perfect mid-air flip into the newly made opening. She landed lightly on the missile turret platform and drew her lightsaber. With a quick slash she opened a panel on the side and knelt beside the opening, glancing at her datapad again.

"No, this can't be right." Padmé could hear the frustration in the Jedi's voice. Moments later she called to Padmé. "I'm going to need your help!"

Padmé moved quickly around the rim to the place with the best vantage point down into the opening. Offee stood.

"Tell me what to do!"

"Can you make it over here?"

Padmé didn't wait to answer the question. The distance between the ledge where she stood and the deck of the huge turret gun was considerable. Easily a gap of several meters across and down. The jump wasn't easy, but Padmé made it with relative grace. She landed on her feet, and put her hands out to keep from falling against the solid durasteel base of the turret. She felt the jarring impact register as pain in her ankles and wrists. It was worth it, though, for the barest glance containing a hint of admiration from the Jedi.

She circled to where Offee knelt.

"There are two access panels," the Jedi explained, "One on either side of the launcher. Whoever set this up didn't anticipate anyone trying to prevent a launch, so there aren't any traps to avoid, but the countdown sequence has started and there isn't any way to stop it short of killing the power supply to the unit."

Padmé looked past her to the interior of the unit.

"There would be a breaker switch, if the builders of this weapon had adhered to any kind of code or plan. Unfortunately it was built to get the job done, not to meet safety specs." Her voice took on a rough, hurried note. "Everything is hardwired, including the dual power supply that feeds both the missile launcher and the control panel."

"Dual power supply? I only see one power conduit."

"Exactly. The second conduit comes up on the other side of this base from the same internal generator. The wiring diagram on the datapad shows they are linked, meaning the power flow is in something of an equilibrium." The Padawan stood and circled the base of the turret. Padmé followed her, watching as she used her lightsaber to slash open the panel on the other side. She knelt beside the thick black wiring that chased along the floor at the inner edge of the base. "See the second conduit?" The Jedi's voice had grown hurried as she touched it with her hand.

Padmé nodded before asking the question she didn't really want to know the answer to, "How much time do we have?"

"According to the counter on the other side, less than two minutes." Offee stood. "The incoming power supply is balanced. We have to cut it off on both sides at the exact same time. If we don't, all power will be shunted to the remaining side. The explosion from the overload would kill us both. It might even cause a release of the toxin capsule here on Ohma D'un." Offee gave a wry grin. "There isn't much left to kill here on the moon besides the four of us, and either way Naboo will be safe from this particular launch site. Still, I'd prefer the version where we survive."

_I don't particularly care_, Padmé thought suddenly and she did not even feel alarmed at her thoughts. _At least not for myself. But Anakin! _

"So would I," she declared firmly.

For the first time since they had left Anakin, Padawan Offee looked at Padmé fully; her face was filled with empathy.

All of a sudden an insistent beeping, about every five seconds, started on the other side of the unit.

"No more time!" The Padawan indicated Padmé's blaster. "Draw your weapon and train it on the conduit. Uh, you might want to stand as far back as possible." Padmé did as she was told while Offee hurried back to the other side of the base. Padmé heard her lightsaber reactivate.

The beeping was coming faster now. Every second.

"We've got to do this at exactly the same time." The Jedi shouted. "Are you ready?"

"Yes!" Padmé's finger rested tightly over the trigger of her weapon. A cold, deathly calm, reminiscent of her Ice-Queen façade, had descended on her as she stared at the conduit. She felt nothing, empty. Empty except for one thing: the truth. _Anakin. _

"On three then!" There was a brief pause, then Barriss Offee started counting. "One… Two…"

_Anakin, I love you. I will always love you. _

"Three!"

* * *

At the base of the tower Ferus waited, his frustration mounting by degrees. Skywalker had unceremoniously dropped him here before climbing the ladder that rose to the top of the two-story observation tower. He had moved so quickly that it seemed that he'd just disappeared over the top and out of sight. The triple combination of helplessness, uselessness and worry did very little to improve Ferus's temperament. He should be up there helping Skywalker disarm the weapon!

He tried to move to the ladder but the second he put weight on his leg the pain was blinding. It was more than the Force could help him mask. Frustrated beyond endurance at his inability to help, he pulled out his datapad and ran through the scenario he knew must be unfolding above him.

The two capsules containing the spores and catalysts were aimed at two of Naboo's largest bodies of water: the Paonga sea, where Otoh Gunga was located, and Lake Narmele, which bordered Theed and supplied water to the entire city. Water-borne, the agents would easily disperse to all living things in the immediate area. The casualties would be catastrophic.

Ferus read over the method of dispersion again, searching for anything that might serve as a next line of defense should either Anakin or Barriss fail to stop the launch. He came up with nothing. The toxin-generating agents were timed to mix inside the protective capsule upon launch, but the capsule itself wouldn't be triggered to open until impacting the water's surface. The only way the Jedi could prevent disaster was by stopping the launch.

All Barriss and Skywalker needed to do was to cut the power supply. Ferus trusted Barriss's competence completely. As for Skywalker… Well, even he would be able to handle this easily, Ferus decided grudgingly as he examined the diagram. Then he noticed something he had missed before and did a double take.

The _dual_ power supply.

Ferus Olin swore.

* * *

Obi-Wan had always taught him that anger was an undesirable emotion in a Jedi, and Anakin took his Master on his word. He had to because he certainly didn't see the evidence of it in his own catalogue of life experiences. If anything, Anakin had learnt that anger illuminated things, gave an extra clarity of perception that did not come as easily with serenity.

He had also discovered that when he was angry, he moved faster.

The ladder was still vibrating beneath him when Anakin dropped lightly over the edge of the tower wall to the maintenance platform encircling the dome. The hatch doors meant to house and protect the telescope were obvious, but were tightly shut. According to the plans he'd memorized, he needed access to the base of the telescope-turned-canon, so getting _to_ it was the first order of business.

_Of duty_, he reminded himself harshly.

He looked for a maintenance panel and almost missed it. There it was, right next to the ladder he had just come up, but it was covered by a durasteel panel that blended almost seamlessly with the surrounding wall. He ran his hand over it. It must have a coded magnetic release because he couldn't see a way to pry it loose. He stood back from it and two quick flicks of his lightsaber later had cut through the sheet metal.

The best thing about having a mechanical hand, Anakin decided… OK, a _broken_ mechanical hand… was that hot metal did not burn durasteel, and fried sensors could not register pain. It was a lesson that Aurra Sing would not soon forget, he thought with a grim smile. The mechanism in the joint was damaged but the Force was stronger than any servomotor. His mind moved the cyborg hand to grasp the still-molten edge of the cut metal, pulling it down to reveal a small control panel beneath. Viciously, Anakin's flesh hand pressed the larger of the buttons beneath them. He had suddenly remembered exactly how and where he had first learnt that lesson. Not far from this place as a matter of fact, while he rammed the trunk of a perennial on Naboo with his fists.

Not long ago, he had been reminded about Geonosis. It was funny how the more things changed, the more they stayed the same, he thought bitterly. Then in one abrupt mental decision, he gathered all the nebulous thoughts that had been swirling in his mind since the moment he stepped through Arcus Novar's trap and buried them deep down in that portion of his soul that served as a graveyard for his emotions.

Anger gave clarity. Misery did not.

Over the past months – in fact, since the beginning of the Wars – Anakin had come to greatly appreciate the discipline of single-minded focus. When facing an enemy on the battlefield or strategizing before a siege, the ability to push aside every other care or consideration, every conflicting principle, every personal dream or ambition, and direct all his intelligence and will in achieving a single goal was not a luxury but a necessity. Anakin, erstwhile known for his penchant of keeping his mind on everything and anything but the task before him, had honed that skill. It was one of the things that had made him such a formidable warrior.

So what if there was an element of recklessness in the way he fought, a sort of manic genius in his tactics? They worked, didn't they? In the end, despite Yoda's platitudes, wasn't that what the Jedi wanted? The Senate? The Republic?

_(Padmé?)_

The hatch on the dome that housed the telescope was opening. In the dimming light Anakin's guess was confirmed. The Separatists had replaced the exploratory telescope with a class 7-torpedo launcher. It probably hadn't even been difficult. The barrel of the weapon was pretty much the same size and weight.

As soon as it was fully open and the doors clicked to a stop Anakin leapt down to the base of the gun. Almost the instant his boots touched the metal platform a loud grinding noise started. Evidently a timer was trying to open the already-open hatch doors. He cringed as he heard the low hum of the canon beginning to power up. This wasn't good. Time was fast running out.

He had to find a way to prevent the launch _now_.

He cut open the panel on the left side of the base of the weapon. There along the lower edge was the power conduit. The symbols marking it as a power line and a dual supply glowed faint blue on the smooth black surface. Anakin ran to the other side, cutting open an identical section of panel. The second conduit was marked with identical glowing symbols. The first – really the only – way to stop the launch was cutting off the power supply. This meant finding a way to obstruct dual energy conduits _simultaneously_.

For the first time since Ferus had interfered with the killing of Aurra Sing – actually, for the first time _ever_ – Anakin wished the other Jedi was up here to help him. There was no way he could use his lightsaber to cut both conduits at the same time. Of all the times for the perfect Padawan to turn into an idiot and get himself shot…

The hum was growing louder. In one fluid sweep, the long turret began adjusting itself to its preprogrammed trajectory. Anakin ducked under the moving barrel while glancing up at the intended target. The misty-blue orb of Naboo filled the darkening sky. Padmé's family.

The home she was willing to sacrifice everything else for.

He bit the inside of his cheek so hard that he tasted blood. He _would_ stop this launch.

In his mind Anakin tried to measure the magnitude of the overload explosion that would be generated if he cut only one conduit. He and Ferus would be killed, definitely. On top of that, there was a slim chance the explosion wouldn't destroy the lethal capsule – that the toxins might once again be released into the lunar environment. Certainly the risk of death was acceptable to himself and to the other Jedi Padawans, assuming that risk was part of their sworn duty.

_No._ Padmé was still here on Ohma D'un. Overload carried an unacceptable risk.

Anakin studied the conduit again. The power conduits on either side came up from the base, meaning somewhere under this metal block there was a main power line feeding both conduits. He needed a controlled means of eliminating that supply line.

He stood, walking to the rear of the base. Unless he missed his guess, the main line came up around here before Y-channeling to either side of the gun base. The durasteel floor panel was thicker than the side panels, but he wasn't deterred. He used his saber to make the same shallow cuts through the metal. Red-hot durasteel still dripped from the cut edges when he used his artificial hand to grasp and pull the panel up.

Even as he dropped to the floor to look down into the dark cavern of the gun's internal workings a loud beeping began from somewhere high on the weapon. The sound seemed to fill the turret niche.

Anakin couldn't see well from a combination of sweat dripping in his eyes and lack of light. The only source of illumination in the overcrowded space came from glowing symbols on the jumble of wires and pipes that filled it. Deep inside the mechanical mess, among the flashing, multi-colored markings, was a conduit the thickness of his thigh that pulsed with the same glowing blue symbols he'd just seen on the twin power lines.

He didn't think he could reach it through the tangle of pipes, but he pulled out his lightsaber nevertheless. He stretched his arm into the darkness, igniting the shimmering azure blade. Just as he'd thought. The conduit was easily half a meter outside the reach of the tip of his lightsaber.

He groaned in frustration, adjusting his position to try to gain that extra reach.

The beeping was growing faster. There were probably only seconds left. The whine from the canon's charged power supply was deafening in the small space.

Anakin dropped his lightsaber, hearing the hiss of its deactivation before it clattered down through the wires and pipes.

He stretched out his human hand, reaching toward the conduit even as his mind reached into the Force.

The Force reached back. He felt it touch the tomb in his heart. Heard her voice in his mind.

_Anakin, I love you. I will always love you. _

The darkness exploded in a shower of sparks.

* * *

The unmarked fighter had gone as fast and as far away from Naboo and its stupid moon as the autopilot could carry it. Umgul, that den of recreational indulgences to those who could afford it was only parsecs away. Most bounty hunters could hardly afford the top-notch medical facilities there, but Aurra Sing had done business for a surgeon there once, and she knew he would be very eager to send her away as soon as possible.

Cradling her roughly bandaged wrist with her left hand, Aurra willed it not to be irreparably damaged and fumed.

She hadn't bothered checking the feed from the Separatist's databank into her ship's console to confirm if the capsules had been detonated on schedule. No doubt, The Hero Without Fear had found a way to thwart that as well.

_Arrogant Jedi! _ If Skywalker even was any kind of a Jedi. The Sithing son of a Tatooine whore! He was mad, completely, utterly insane.

One of those odd pockets of gravity in space hit the small ship and she bounced a little in her chair. Her right wrist hit against her chest and she cried out loud.

Not bothering to fight back the tears anymore, Aurra Sing swore to herself that she would bring Anakin Skywalker down if that was the last thing she ever did. This had gone beyond a job now. This had become personal.

* * *

Flowers. Rain. A gentle hand resting on his brow. Kisses so sweet he could die from them.

Padmé.

Anakin _felt_ her long before he gained full consciousness. Somewhere across the moon, Padmé was alive and breathing. She and Barriss must have succeeded in their mission. Relief flooded through him so strongly that for a long moment, he just remained on the floor of the tower, shaking with the emotion.

Anger gave clarity. Misery did not. Joy… well, joy was not an emotion Anakin Skywalker felt very often so he had no way of analyzing its effectiveness in battle.

Eventually, the storm of happiness passed. He got to his feet slowly, brushing ash and the cooling embers of burning duraplast from his hair. He was infinitely grateful that Naboo builders had still been using the material to sheathe its power conduits those many years ago. Dully, he noted that he was in a lot of pain. With the exception of the mechano-skeleton of his right arm, every bone in his body was on fire.

Using the Force to break the power line had been a huge gamble. A plasteel conduit wouldn't have ruptured in time. Synthplast would only have stretched. As he crossed to the ladder, he allowed himself to wonder for a moment what Obi-Wan would have done in this situation. Anakin permitted himself a small smile. Obi-Wan never would've let go of his lightsaber, that's for sure.

Anakin felt Olin's eyes on him as he made his way gingerly down the ladder. Anakin kept his shields as high as possible, but no amount of shielding could disguise his slow, careful descent down the ladder. Nor could he disguise the way, he leaned against the tower for support when he reached the ground. Almost before Anakin had put a foot on the ground, the other Padawan was speaking to him and he braced himself for Olin's mockery – or worse – his pity.

Anakin got neither.

"I know they must have succeeded, but I haven't been able to reach Barriss on the COM link." Ferus's voice was far from its usual even tone. Concern – and something else – shook it and shone from the starkness on his face.

It was a 'something else' that Anakin Skywalker easily recognized.

The final piece in the puzzle. First that odd reaction just before leaving Coruscant when Barriss had greeted Anakin. Then the even odder one when Ferus had been shot and Anakin had suggested taking him to her. And now this: Ferus 'Perfect Padawan' Olin was so beside himself with anxiety for Barriss that he wasn't thinking to shield the intense emotion in Anakin's presence.

There was more going on here than mere Jedi camaraderie.

The pang of sympathy that Anakin felt in that instant, surprised him more than the realization of Ferus's emotions.

"Olin, I'm sure they are fine," he said gently.

He was rewarded with a suspicious look from the other man. "How do you know?"

"I can sense it," Anakin said simply.

The answer clearly didn't satisfy Ferus. His aura spiked with ire. Perhaps, he thought Anakin was mocking him. Which would have been a justifiable assumption a few months – days – hours ago.

Anakin sighed and shifted his weight, feeling pain like small shocks in the bones of his knees and ankles. He was tired. So tired. Tired of denying what he felt for Padmé in front of the entire galaxy. As odd and weird as it was, it looked like Ferus Olin might actually understand this.

Taking a deep breath, he said slowly, enunciating each word carefully, "If anything happened to Senator Amidala, I would know. We have… a connection."

The flare of annoyance in Ferus's eyes dimmed and died. At the mention of Padmé, the anger had transformed into relief. _Relief_ Anakin wondered. _Because it was Padmé… not Barriss… that I sensed? _

"Olin," he said carefully, "maybe I'm out of line, but your concern for Barriss seems a little… overdone."

Ferus looked at him squarely. "You're right, Skywalker. You are out of line."

Every shred of sympathy Anakin had been feeling towards this biped bantha evaporated at once.

"No, Olin. _You're_ wrong. For a Jedi to have feelings – attachments – that is what is out of line." Anakin snapped. "Does Master Siri know you care so much about Barriss?"

"Does Master Obi-Wan know how much you care about Senator Amidala?" Ferus retorted.

Anakin crossed his arms. "So you do have feelings for Barriss?" He asked slyly.

Ferus was sputtering a reply to that when Anakin's COM link started flashing. He pulled it out. It was Barriss's frequency.

"Skywalker."

"Anakin?"

Every system in his body shut down.

"Anakin?"

Then started up again, at double tempo.

"Padmé?" Anakin whispered, his hand tightening on the COM. Her voice – so warm, so _concerned._ He knew how she looked when she spoke like that. Her face filled his vision now.

He was answered with silence. His heart started pounding.

_Padmé, please._ Later on, he would see the marks in his left palm where the COM had bitten into his hand. _Please, don't do this. Please… _

"Anakin!" Barriss's exuberant alto came over the COM so loudly that Anakin almost dropped it. He certainly felt like if he had dropped himself. And landed very, very hard.

In his mind, he could hear a door – a familiar door – slamming shut.

"Oh Anakin! We did it! Naboo is safe!"

He stood and bore Barriss's prattle. At first he thought his despair would actually kill him. That he would just crumple into a heap of smoking ashes, flutter to the ground. Padmé would gather these ashes and keep them in a cistern. The cistern would have a special pride of place on her desk - an eternal memento of just how much the Senator of Naboo was willing to sacrifice for her duty.

But he didn't die nor did he fall. He kept on standing, kept on functioning. He didn't even realize when he had pulled himself from the ladder and supported his own weight. The pain in his body had gone. It had been eclipsed by the one in his soul.

"They're safe," Ferus hissed.

Anakin started. Had he so completely lost every sense of awareness that he had forgotten that Ferus was standing in front of him? The other man's shoulders were sagging with relief at the sound of Barriss's voice – and glaring at Anakin coldly at the same time.

There was something else Anakin had learnt during those long, lonely months fighting at the front – it was very easy to channel pain into rage. He directed all the fury inside him with such unfiltered venom to Ferus that the other Jedi blanched.

"Yes, Barrriss, we're safe enough," Anakin said into a nanosecond that Barriss had paused to catch her breath. Even in his own ears, his voice sounded particularly malicious, "but Ferus could use a little help. It seems he let Sing shoot him in the leg…"

* * *


	13. Of Veterans and Recruits

**CHAPTER XII**

**Of Veterans and Recruits**

The wind was in a foul mood that day and as much as Tunsu wanted to fly the red kite, she had chosen wisely to keep it in the hut. Dunsu hadn't seen the need for so much caution and the two children quickly fell to blows over the disagreement.

After she had soundly trounced him, Dunsu went off in a sulk, leaving Tunsu alone and quickly bored.

Even the sand was boring today. Too warm beneath her webbed feet. Tunsu kicked at it the way she had seen Kinu do at times when his metal arm had acted up. To her further irritation, it didn't fly up in a fine spray but just flopped a little, smoothening out almost immediately.

Feeling out of sorts and at odds with everything, she flopped into the water and paddled furiously.

It was all Dunsu's fault. She wasn't entirely sure how hitting him first had made it his fault but Tunsu knew it had to be his own. Just as she knew that she might be the one to apologize first. She and Dunsu were stuck together whether they liked it or not. There was no one else their age in Salma to play with and Kinu was gone. The other children were either too big and had chased Tunsu and Dunsu away, or they were too small and stupid. And Ben, whom she was supposed to be taking care of, always found some excuse to get out of her sight. If only she could play with Janty or Pent! But her father had said no.

Tunsu's feet splashed against the surface angrily, kicking up a fine spray but she was too upset to notice this. It was so annoying, and very unfair! Just because the grown-ups were having some stupid quarrel didn't mean that she and her friends had to fight as well.

She paused in her swimming and threaded water. She had swum out quite far. If she swam a little ways further, she'd be directly above the caves where her friends lived. The three reefs that made up Salma had receded into small, insignificant looking black humps in the horizon. About the size of the webspan between her fore fingers, as a matter of fact. That red flapping thing in the middle one might be the new paint on Re's banner. The reef by its right was where her family and Dunsu's lived and if she squinted, she could see the little column of smoke from the fire in Ben's hut. The third reef was not inhabited. It was too dry and grassy. She, Janty and Pent used to go exploring there. Dunsu was too much of a wimp to tag along.

Tunsu had half a mind to sneak down to underwater caves. Then she remembered her father's face the last time they had discussed and her nerve left her. Her father was the most wonderful, gentlest being in the world but that day, Tunsu had been sure he was about to hit her.

Tears sprang in her eyes and she swiped them away angrily, and started swimming back to the reefs. Crying was for babies. Although she could have sworn she had seen Kinu cry once. It was the night he, Ben and Linti had arrived. It was way past her sleep time and Tunsu was hiding from her mother. She had come across the human, sitting next those smoky fires that humans liked so much and reading a letter he took from his vest. He had looked and felt so sad, that Tunsu had completely forgotten about the need to hide. Instead she had climbed into his lap and held him tightly. After a moment, his own arms had gone around her and they had hugged each other for a long time. The next day when he made the kite, they had become established friends.

She really ought to take care of Ben better, she thought fretfully. But it wasn't her fault that he was so boring! He rarely smiled, always spoke in a grave voice that reminded her of Pent's father who was a old stodgy school teacher, and hardly ever spent time with anyone but a grown-up. And, she thought unhappily, she wasn't sure but she felt he was afraid of her. Still it was her sacred duty. At least he hadn't told her to take care of Linti.

Linti was a strange one. She looked like a Mon Calamari so she had to be one but sometimes, Tunsu doubted it very much. Linti swam well, far better than Ben, but she swam like someone who had been taught. She spoke Mon Calamari in the same way. At least Ben and Kinu were humans and it wasn't their fault that their mouths were so small and funny-looking. But what was Linti's excuse?

Tunsu shuddered in the water. She was quite close to the reefs now. She went below the surface completely as she angled towards the third one. She didn't want anyone on the shore. The big ones were playing one of those stupid games where they went off in pairs anyway and didn't pay much notice to her. She really ought not to go to the third reef on her own. There were all sorts of wild animals there…

She swam completely out of sight of the other two reefs, and raised her head. The leafy shorelines beckoned towards her. Now that she was out of the water, and away from the other shores, she could hear the sounds from this reef clearly. For the first time since she had taken her long swim, Tunsu paused with apprehension. The noises coming from the reef were strange. Not the high hooting or low grumbling of the creatures she and Janty had discovered over the years. These sounded even more ominous. The clash-clash sound of metal. Tiny, muffled explosions.

Then worse: low voices. She couldn't make out the words but she recognized Dac being spoken in soft, venomous tones.

Hot fear blossomed over her fins and she dived under.

Bad Quarren. It had to be. Bad Quarren that her father had implied when he told her not to play with them again. That he and Re whispered about when they thought she didn't hear. They were here. They were doing things… Bad Things. Probably things that could hurt her father and mother and Dunsu and the others…

All the while these rapid thoughts flitted through her brain, Tunsu had gone so still in the water that not even ripples echoed from her small body. She actually started seeing black spots before she realized that she had closed her fins in fear. She wheezed out a desperate breath and tried to calm herself.

She had to swim back. Go back to her own reef. Warn the others. Hide…

But what if it was already too late? What would Kinu have done? She thought despairingly. Probably have stayed and stopped them, of course.

_I can't! I'm scared!_

Coward! Pent said in her mind's eye at once and Tunsu stuck out her wet tongue at the image. Recklessly, she paddled closer, her big eyes wide, trying to exceed her almost 360o view.

She was close to the shore now and in fact, could see the sand not far beneath her feet. The long water leafs grew here and soon, she was in the midst of them. They offered a good hiding place, which was just as well because what she could now see had made her gasp out loud.

A herd of keeklana resting in the grassy shore, not far from where she hid. If she had not come as close as she did, she would not have seen them. Their aquamarine skin was a perfect camouflage for the blue-green grass. The keeklana were sea creatures who lived well beneath the surface and rarely ventured below or near the shores. This fact was of most importance to both the Quarren and the Mon Calamari as the keeklana were vicious, eel-like creatures with teeth sharp enough to bite through metal… and small children.

And here was a flock of them basking within feet of her.

The first thought that entered Tunsu's mind as she started wheezing again was _ Dunsu's going to take my kite!_ The next was: _Don't scream! _

But it was already too late. Even as she heard the shout and the sound of feet running through the grass, the little girl had drawn in breath into her fins and opened her mouth in a loud screech.

* * *

Siri Tachi shook her blonde hair out of her face as she followed Master Shaak Ti down the long corridor separating the business end of the Jedi Temple from the relaxation wing. Their shared objective was a certain diminutive green-skinned Jedi Master who had stubbornly made himself unavailable for current situation updates.

It wasn't that he didn't know what was going on. In fact, the level of knowledge he seemed to possess about all aspects of the war effort was staggering. Nobody knew exactly how he came by his information, but Siri felt sure that once they reached him with the briefing from Naboo he would already be well aware of the way that mission turned out.

No, this little side-trip wasn't to inform Master Yoda. Rather, it was to deliver Queen Jamillia's gracious invitation to the recognition ceremony she was insistent upon holding for the three Padawans who had helped rescue her planet. Her invitations to the Jedi – and to Master Yoda specifically – required a diplomatic response since obviously, they would not be accepted.

Hopefully Siri and Shaak Ti could pull the Jedi Master from his musings long enough to secure a yea or nay.

It seemed the higher the war casualties climbed – in particular, the Jedi losses – the less anyone saw him. Yoda was retreating into the realm of the Force, content to let Master Windu handle all matters of military strategy.

Many of the Jedi Knights envied him his ability to break from the harsh realities of the war. Siri did not. It was no secret that Master Yoda was torn apart inside by the devastating losses the Jedi Order had suffered during this war. He felt each death in the Force as none of the other Jedi could. She suspected that where Yoda went during his meditations was a very dark place indeed.

The relaxation wing was quiet, almost deserted. Very few Jedi had time to relax these days. Siri herself would be leaving for her next mission on Aereen barely days after her arrival from Kamino. The Knights and older Padawans were serving on the fronts, and the younger Padawans and Initiates were busy with weapons and tactics research in the Archives. It was the exact opposite of Siri's own days as an apprentice when the wing was filled with groups of Padawans and Masters, in the long and frequent breaks between missions. Then, exciting assignments were so few and far between, that the long months in the Temple made her restless. She had never had Obi-Wan's great love for, as she put it, sitting down in one spot and doing nothing.

Now, she felt a restlessness of a different sort. No one had expected the War to last for this long. After almost a year of unending campaigns where victories only seemed to prolong rather than shorten the war, every Jedi felt the toll. Even Siri.

Even more disturbingly, their access to the Force, that eternal spring of nourishment and rejuvenation, had dimmed.

Shaak Ti's cultured alto suddenly registered and it occurred to Siri that she had no idea how long the council member had been speaking. She pulled herself from her reverie and caught the tail end of the one-sided conversation.

"… indeed, you must be very proud of your Padawan and his part in the Naboo rescue."

"I am always proud of Ferus." It was an automatic sidestep, certainly, and not meant to convey any displeasure over Ferus's performance on Naboo. It was only that Siri had yet to speak to Ferus directly, and she had no idea whether or not _he_ felt he had done well; and that was always a critical point in determining how she felt about his accomplishments.

"Yes, he does have a reputation for excellence." Shaak Ti's tone held a trace of wry humor. "You chose your Padawan well; some would say _better_ than your friend Obi-Wan."

"Obi-Wan came by Anakin under very unusual circumstances. He didn't actually choose him at all."

"Ah, but he made the decision to train him, which is very nearly the same thing."

Siri didn't argue with her elder, though she didn't agree. Obi-Wan following his sense of duty, making a deathbed promise to his own Master, did not constitute free will as far as she was concerned. Though her friend would never openly admit it, she suspected Obi-Wan would've agreed with her.

"And Luminara's young Padawan? Barriss?" Siri felt Shaak Ti's sidelong glance. "I hear that you've taken her under your wing since her master was killed."

"You could say that, only Ferus has really been more her protector and mentor than I."

"He must be very wise and sensitive for one so young, if a Mirialan feels a bond with him."

"I think it may be more that he feels an affinity for her. Barriss is something of a loner, and only now beginning to feel again. Still, Ferus is not the same boy he was a year ago." It suddenly occurred to Siri how very true that was. "He's not a boy at all."

"None of them are children any more. Not even the younglings. This war has touched them all, has forced a maturity upon them in ways no Temple teaching could have." Shaak Ti was matter of fact about this. In her time as a master she had trained two Padawans through their trials and watched them become knights. "A different path than ours, but not necessarily a worse path. See young Skywalker, for example. Despite the circumstances, Obi-Wan must be very proud of his accomplishments. I hear on Naboo that he was quite impressive."

"Indeed." Siri said wryly. "Obi-Wan's Padawan usually is."

They fell silent as they entered the Room of a Thousand Fountains, passing the cool crystalline beauty of various water vignettes on their way to the Garden Room. Siri had never cared much for the fountain room. Calm, soothing streams were not her preference, though she came here often to meditate with Obi-Wan because he loved the room's gentle tranquility. No, Siri preferred her water chaotic and powerful, like the rushing falls on Naboo.

The pair turned into the Garden Room, finding it cool and humid as always. As was the norm lately, with most of the Jedi and Padawans old enough out on assignment, it was also deserted save for one solitary being. Master Yoda wasn't hard to find. He was perched comfortably on a mossy stone surrounded by the large green leaves of a plant that looked to be a native of some jungle planet.

Despite the brightness of Yoda's Force presence, the entire room held a tangible air of despair. Siri could see it in the small master's demeanor as well. His shoulders slouched and his ears were downturned.

She followed Shaak Ti's lead as the elder Jedi knelt before Yoda in the waiting posture. They both knew he would acknowledge their presence in his own time. She closed her eyes, drawing into herself, reaching out to the Force. It was no use. The Force was there, as always, but concentration would not come. She settled for introspective musing.

She felt a gentle Force nudge from the master beside her and opened her eyes. Yoda was regarding them seriously. His eyes were sparkling with what looked like his old humor, but from out of a visage that was wreathed in grief.

"Why have you come?" There was weariness in his gruff voice that neither Jedi had heard before.

Tentatively, Shaak Ti said, "We bring a report on the Naboo incident."

"Yes, yes. I know." Yoda replied testily. "Overcome the separatists, the Padawans did. Exemplary their work was."

The two female Jedi shared a quick glance. Neither was surprised at Yoda's prescient knowledge even though word had only come from Naboo a mere half an hour ago. It was the almost, for want of a better word, _ungrateful_ way he declared the victory that amazed both.

"Senator Amidala, too, was instrumental in saving the planet." Master Ti continued. "The council was astonished to find her there."

Once again Yoda seemed unsurprised by the revelation. "On Naboo Senator Amidala _would _be. Knew this, I did, the moment Skywalker was included in the mission. Her destiny and that of the Chosen One are intertwined."

Siri resisted the urge to meet Shaak Ti's dark eyes once more and knew the Togruta master was doing the same.

"Master Yoda," Shaak Ti went on, "the council wishes your input on several matters regarding Naboo. They seek the wisdom of your counsel."

"My _own _counsel will I keep at times such as these. It is not for the council to decide where most needed I am." Yoda's mouth set in a frustrated line. His face clouded even further. "In recent days many Jedi have died. Only yesterday, on Lianna, Master Cei Vookto met his end. Meditate on those losses – feel that anguish – _someone _must."

That was when Siri realized that the Jedi Master's eyes were sparkling with unshed tears.

Her companion had realized it as well, she knew. She could tell from the other's shocked silence. Taking a slow breath, Siri decided that she had to speak up boldly "But we… need your input on diplomatic matters; things that must be handled now. Mourning our dead… surely that can wait."

"Troubled enough, by these losses you are not!" The mossy green orbs regarding her held a gentle rebuke, which Siri accepted wholeheartedly.

"I know, Master Yoda." The wry tilt to her mouth wasn't quite a smile, but it communicated her self-derision. "Sensitivity has never been my strong point."

"Indeed." His reply was resigned, and Siri was certain he was recalling any one of a multitude of times during her apprenticeship when the concept of empathy had been lost on her. "And unlikely it is that being a soldier will change that. More insensitive, more detached from the Living Force, these wars make all of us."

"Master Yoda." Shaak Ti had recovered her composure. Her cool, cultured tones broke the silence. "There is more to Naboo than the Padawans and their triumph over the biological threat. I don't know if you are aware, but there were bounty hunters. Padawan Skywalker met them both." For the first time since they entered the room Yoda's expression was that of one caught unawares. "One was the known Jedi killer, Aurra Sing."

"Jedi killer?" His voice was sour. "Of course. Targets of the Confederacy the best Jedi warriors would be… A turn like this, I should have expected. Still… Interrogate them, did the Padawans?"

"Not sufficiently. One died. Aurra Sing escaped. But Padawan Skywalker believes that she was targeting him specifically." There was disbelief in Shaak Ti's voice. "Although to trust the word of a bounty hunter like Sing…"

It was Siri's turn to be surprised. She had not known of this. "Is it so impossible?" she said respectfully. "He is becoming a famous hero. Killing him would be a great moral blow to the Republic."

Shaak Ti looked skeptical.

"Wrong you both are," Yoda said gravely. "Targeting the _Chosen One_, the Confederacy is."

"The Chosen One?" Shaak Ti asked, her tone inferring that the idea was bordering on preposterous.

Siri frowned. "Does the Confederacy even believe in the prophecy? I mean, of course Count Dooku… as a former Jedi… he would know about it but did he ever believe it? Much about the prophecy is considered legend, even among Jedi."

"Probable it is that _the Sith _know of the prophecy."

Siri tensed at the word, her body reacting reflexively at the sound of the Jedi's natural enemy. Besides her, she could sense Shaak Ti doing the same.

Yoda's eyes missed nothing. He nodded gravely at both of them. "Yes. The Sith. Disastrous should they believe in the prophecy _and _know of young Anakin's role as the Chosen One. Hunted he will become." His ears turned upwards as a light entered his eyes.

"How do we find out?" Shaak Ti's incredulity had turned to firm resolve.

"Not enough Jedi there are to investigate this matter off-world. A researcher we need. Master Jocasta Nu. Assigned to handle this she and her apprentice will be."

It made sense. The Jedi archivist could research just about anything from her offices in the library and if the task should take her off-world, it was unlikely that it would be detrimental to any battle plans.

"To the task, at once, you should put her." There was dismissal in his tone.

The women hesitated.

"Master, there is one more thing…" Shaak Ti said. "Queen Jamillia of Naboo is most insistent on holding a ceremony to honor the three Padawans. Of course they cannot go. To honor a Jedi simply for doing his job is not necessary. And we need them back here too badly –"

"No!" Yoda's sudden exclamation cut off and visibly startled the Togruta. "Attend the ceremony they will." His voice was firm. Suddenly his expression became animated, almost jovial. "Siri will go, for your Padawan."

Siri started. As used as she was to being thrown by some of Yoda's decisions, this was completely took her by surprise. From the corner of her eye, she saw Shaak Ti's lips thin with disapproval.

"Obi-Wan, too," he continued. "On Mon Calamari, Amidala is not. Jedi protection there she does not require."

"I beg your pardon, Master," Siri managed to say, "but I leave almost immediately for my assignment on Aereen."

"Then accompany Obi-Wan, Master Ti, you will" His eyes settled on Shaak Ti's frown and they almost twinkled. "Object to this, do you, Master Shaak?"

Shaak Ti did not hesitate. "Yes, I do, Master Yoda. These ceremonies are mere charades that can cause discord amongst the other Padawans. The Jedi have places to be, places where they are needed."

"Needed in Naboo, the Jedi are," Master Yoda retorted spiritedly. "Attend in person, the Chancellor will. Jedi protection, he will need."

"It hasn't been confirmed if the Chancellor will be there," Ti countered.

"There, he will be." Yoda said firmly. "Good publicity, he will not refuse. Good publicity, the _Jedi _will not refuse. To acclaim young heroes, happy the Holonet news will be. My final stand, this is." And his stern voice made it clear that the matter was settled.

Still, Master Ti made one last attempt. "Her Majesty's invitation included you as well. Specifically." She emphasized the last word with something akin to malice.

Siri hid a smile.

Yoda said sternly, "Send Queen Jamillia my regrets. On Coruscant my duty lies. Now, off you go." He settled himself again on the mossy stone. "Meditate on these things, I must." He deliberately closed his eyes to them, but not before they saw that sparkle. And it was definitely his old humor.

They left the old Master to his peace.

* * *

"You understand why you can't tell anyone what we do here, don't you?" Tanu asked sternly.

Tunsu ducked her head away from her father's glower, and traced a pattern in the sand with her bare foot.

Her father grabbed her chin, forced her to look up. "Tunsu?"

"Ow, Papa!" She squealed. His grip was _hard_.

"You're hurting her, Tanu," Ben said softly.

Tanu let her go and Tunsu rubbed her chin, blinking back tears and refusing to give Ben a grateful glance. He was a Jedi. He and Linti! And they were the ones who were making her father and Dunsu's brother, and the others tell lies…

"Tunsu," Linti said gently, stepping out of the small circle of people that stood around Tanu and Tunsu. "We didn't tell your mother and the other women and children because we didn't want them to worry, that's all."

Tunsu swallowed hard, shooting a glance at the herd of kekleena grazing behind them – how she wished she hadn't screamed! – and the dangerous and ugly looking metal things that her father and the other Mon Cal were holding. "Are you really going to fight?" she asked her father.

"Tunsu, that isn't-" he began, but Ben put a hand on Tanu's arm.

"Whatever we tell her cannot be worse than what she will imagine," he said softly.

"She shouldn't even be here in the first place! How did she get here? This place is supposed to be perfectly hidden."

"Young ones have ways of getting into places they aren't supposed to be."

Tunsu really wished they'd stop talking about her like if she wasn't right there!

As if she had read her mind, Linti squatted down until she was looking Tunsu right in the eye.

The child took a step back, alarmed at being so close to a Jedi.

But Linti just asked gently, "Tunsu, if we tell you everything we're doing here, do you promise not to tell your mother and the rest of the village?"

Tunsu sneaked a glance at her father's irate face. Her chin was still throbbing. He had never hurt her like that before!

She shied her eyes away from that glower, back to Linti's face. The Jedi looked gentle, kind… but Jedi were not to be trusted… and what would they do to her if Tunsu refused?

"Okay," she said quickly and looked down at the sand to hide her shame and anger. Deep inside, she was mutinous. They were forcing her to keep secret their… whatever it was they were doing. Which had to be bad and wrong for it to _be_ a secret and for it to make her father hurt her.

Poor Kinu, Tunsu thought suddenly. Had he been crying because his father was a Jedi?

"Bant…" Tanu said, then stopped. "Is this wise?"

Ben took her father's arm and led him away, speaking softly. Tunsu caught the words, "she could be useful" and the baleful glance her own father shot at her before they stepped out of her view. The small band of Mon Cal men followed them.

Which left Tunsu alone with Linti – the Jedi!

Linti smiled, a little nervously. "So, Tunsu. How would you like to be a Mon Calamari Knight?"

For the first time since her quarrel with Dunsu and despite her better wisdom, Tunsu felt a leap of excitement.

* * *


	14. A Time for All Seasons

**CHAPTER XIII**

**A Time for All Seasons**

The temple bells of Theed sang death in their full metallic voices.

The victims of the plagues would never return to their native planet. On the moon, cremation tanks incinerated heap upon heap of human, Gungan and non-sentient alike. Crude matter turned to ashes long after their souls had returned to the Force. It was the ones they had left behind on Naboo that needed their moment of closure.

Rows upon rows of empty human coffins were carried down the streets, loved ones following with flowers and prayers. The Gungans carried their own empty caskets of hollow death into the bowels of the sea. On the twelfth night, a choir of two hundred maidens would raise their voices to chant the Last Passage service. And with that would end the exodus of death before the celebration of life.

The Queen had declared a holiday. A celebration of the victory that had eventually taken place and had saved the lives of the inhabitants of Naboo. The ceremony would take place at Theed and the Jedi heroes would be honored. It was not unlike the celebration that had taken place eleven years ago during Queen Amidala's reign. Only then, the Naboo had truly believed the victory had ended the battle. Then the battle and the invasions had been the illusions, alien to their way of life. Now, in the middle of a galactic conflict that had touched their peaceful, loving world, it was the victory and the temporary reign of peace that was the illusion.

* * *

"Although the Chancellor will be arriving in a convoy along with Representatives from several worlds, a few Senators will be travelling separately. The contingents from Alderaan and Cartao are expected to arrive a day before the Ceremony itself. I trust you will be around to receive them?"

"Yes, Your Highness."

The Naboo throne room was awash in golden morning sunlight, every surface bright and sparkling. All but one of the Queen's Council of advisors had been dismissed. Now Jamilla and her handmaidens regarded the former Monarch of Naboo with identically indecipherable expressions.

"Senator Amidala, when you returned from quarantine and begged that I discharge you from attending the Ceremony, I was happy to grant your request because I am also of the opinion that you should spend more time with your family before returning to Coruscant. However, that does not exempt you from discharging your duties as Naboo's advisor in inter-galactic diplomacy."

"I--- beg your pardon, Your Majesty."

"Apology not accepted, Senator. I demand you tell me your objections to this Ceremony."

"Permission to speak frankly, Your Majesty?"

"Permission granted."

"I think that recent events have given our world a lot to be thankful for; and by all means, we should honor the … J-Jedi heroes who averted this calamity. However, a Ceremony of this magnitude and flamboyance downplays the disaster that _ did_ happen on Ohma D'un." Padmé Amidala paused, and her hereto crisp voice softened. "With all due respect, your Majesty, this is not the time for Naboo to celebrate."

Never had the Queen appreciated the paper-white blankness of her traditional face-powder as she did at this moment.

"Senator Amidala, are you aware that as we speak, aid from all over the Republic is being flown into Ohma D'un to contribute towards the restoration of the colonies?"

"I am aware of this, Your Majesty."

"Thanks to the fact that this is the home world of the Supreme Chancellor and thanks to your own accomplishments, Senator Amidala, Naboo has been blessed with an abundance of well-wishers. All eyes are on our world, Senator Amidala. This Ceremony is not just to honor our heroes. It is not even just to thank our friends. Most importantly, we Celebrate in order to let our enemies know that their efforts _ were_ in vain. They may have struck us but they have not broken us." The Queen's voice became even more expressionless. "'In unconventional times, unconventional methods should be the first, not the last resort. '"

Amidala did not have the benefit of the royal mask. Her flinch was visible.

"Yes, I recognize my own words," she said softly, "from my official statement explaining my actions at Ohma D'un."

"So perhaps you can understand, Senator, that in my own way, I am defending Naboo's image from those who seek to harm her."

Jamilla's words were still colorless, devoid of emotion but Amidala had been Queen too. She could not fail to read the import of those words.

Quietly she said, "When you put it that way, I cannot but see the merit of your decision. However may I remind your Majesty that you did insist on my counsel?"

"Yes and I thank you for that, Senator Amidala." Jamilla inclined her head in a subtle gesture, and as one her handmaidens slipped from their posts to stand beside her.

It was a dismissal.

Senator Amidala rose as well. There was a slight frown on her face as she slipped her hands into her skirts, preparing to bow. Then she did something unexpected – she paused.

The handmaidens tensed. For anyone other than a member of the Royal Family, the breach of protocol would've been unthinkable.

Queen Jamilla's lips tightened. "Is there something else, _ Senator_ ?"

"Your Majesty," Amidala said in a tone that managed at once to be both contrite and dignified, "I apologize yet again for having disobeyed your directive at Ohma D'un. But I truly believe that I was acting in the best interest of Naboo." "You have presented your apologies already, Senator Amidala. To all indications if you had not been present, this would have been an even greater disaster. How can I hold that against you?"

It was a rhetorical question and all present were aware of it. The Queen had admitted that the apology had been received. The Queen had not admitted that the apology had been accepted.

Amidala nodded, her face tight with resignation. She bowed low before her Queen and solemnly exited the Throne Room.

The Queen watched her Senator go with pensive eyes.

* * *

Ferus Olin rounded a corner on his way towards the Observatory and was immediately apprehended by a monitor-droid. He winced at the sting of the hypodermic but otherwise, patiently allowed the droid to retrieve a sample of his blood. The droids were stationed all over the work and camp sites, regularly taking blood samples from the sentients and monitoring for signs of the toxins re-manifesting. It was an unnecessary precaution as the threat was completely contained; but Ferus was beginning to appreciate that no further risks would be taken so close to the Supreme Chancellor's home world.

An attack on the Chancellor's home world was an attack on the heart of the Republic itself. Twenty four hours after the Jedi Padawans had contained the bio-threat, and mere moments after the probe droids had confirmed that Ohma D'un was safe for entry to sentients, the restoration teams and equipment dispatched from Coruscant had set up base – ironically – in the same drilling tower in the mining colony that the Separatists had used as a site of their operations.

Nothing could have prepared the group of military officers, scientists and engineers for the first sight of the post-apocalyptic world. The most seasoned military officers flinched at the sight and two youths had had to turn back at once. There was very little physical damage to the landscape – most of the damage caused by unmanned equipment left running unchecked was restricted to the mining areas of Otoh Nass. The residential zones of the colonies with the trademark bubble architecture stood virtually untouched, brilliant and beautiful against the surrounding swampland.

But the very beauty of this was a macabre backdrop to the corpses dotted across the landscape.

The first task had been to bury the dead.

Later, the other restoration work began. The colony was teeming with activity as the analysts quickly took stock of the extent of the damage while the engineers began their preparations to rebuild. Apparently, no expense was to be spared. Equipment and materials were being flown in from far and wide. Most were donated by the affluent worlds of the Inner Rim who were either moved by the tragedy or moved to curry favor with the Chancellor or both.

During their discussions over the holo-comms, Master Siri had expressed her concern over Ferus's injury and her caution that he be on his guard against holo-reporters and other opportunists who might want to take advantage of the Jedi apprentices. Ferus had been amazed at just how much access the Holonet was demanding – and being given. The appeal was obvious – the double combination of the high-profile location and the presence of The Hero Without Fear himself was certainly any holo-reporter's dream come true. Ferus snorted. Skywalker hadn't been very kind to the few holo-reporters that had dared to approach him. So they had resorted to settling for 'lesser' Jedi like Ferus and Barriss. Ferus was no Skywalker – he refused to adopt the other man's bad behavior – but the Holo-reporters _ were_ a nuisance and he avoided them as much as he could while he focused on his work.

And work, did the Jedi have. They had only spent two days on the medical shuttle that was part of the restoration team; Ferus had got treatment for his broken knee while Skywalker got his cybernetic arm repaired. Then they were back on the moon. Automatically the highest-ranking Republic Military officers present, the young Jedi were in charge of all operations involved in the investigation of the disaster. And it went without saying that as guardians of peace and justice in the Republic, the young Jedi were obliged to do their best to support the restoration activities.

Ferus handed over custody of the Sullustan prisoners to the Royal Naboo Guard. He provided them with access to the Separatists' databank and joined in the analysis of the wealth of data that they found there. They discovered – and quickly relayed to Coruscant – reports of similar bio-chemical experiments and plans of potential attacks. From the feedback Master Siri provided, close to ninety percent of the intel had proved both valid and crucial.

Barriss Offee spearheaded the ecological restoration work, determining the best methods of restoring the decimated fauna and flora. She was being kept busy, working round the clock with biological and geological experts and Ferus rarely saw her except in the early hours of the day. But whenever he did, he noted the confident, competent way in which she worked, the respect with which she was treated. It made his heart soar with pride.

"All vitals normal," beeped out the monitor-droid, breaking into his thoughts. Its automatic analysis completed, the droid whisked away on its repulsor skates.

Ferus rubbed his elbow gingerly, wincing at the sting as he commenced his walk to the Observatory or, more specifically, to Skywalker.

He located the other Jedi easily enough. Skywalker stood some meters apart from the blue-uniformed engineers assembled around a crane-lifter. He was leaning against a pillar, and successfully giving an impression of utter detachment from the work he was supposed to be involved in.

The engineers were apparently working out the best method of positioning the brand new observation tower that was lying in its temporary support in the marshes. At first the plan had been to refurbish the old one, but three techs had lost their lives in the attempt and they had quickly discovered that the structure was a veritable hive of booby traps. And it had not been the only one. Quickly, reports had been made of others, strategically located in the colonies. None of these traps had the capability of widespread destruction as the bio-toxin but they had proved brutal enough to the few scientists who had been victims: an auto-destruct data file that had taken off a Gungan's nose; a sensor-activated mini-bomb that had left a Naboo crippled. Apparently the Separatist minds that had engineered this attack hadn't been content with destroying all life on Naboo and its moon; they also intended to ensure that neither would ever be able to recover from the disaster.

However, the Separatists had not counted on Skywalker.

After their stay in the medical shuttle, Skywalker hadn't seemed particularly interested in interrogating the Sullustan prisoners; or analyzing military intel or planning the restoration strategies. He had showed a glancing interest in the engineering aspects of the construction; but most of the time, he just remained in the Jedi's quarters and fiddled with his mechanical arm. If that were all he did, Ferus would have had no complaints. However, that was not the case. Skywalker's manners – never the best at most times – had turned insufferable after the disarming of the chemical weapon. He snapped at everyone who dared approach him, replying even the most harmless of inquiries with rudeness bordering on malice. The militia, scientists and civil servants had all felt his wrath and had learnt quickly to stay well away from him. The most tenacious of holo-reporters dared not approach him. Ferus could not be certain, but he suspected that even the monitor droids avoided Skywalker.

The only person who was spared was Barriss Offee. Which was a good thing because while Ferus could take anything Skywalker threw at him – and he threw a lot – he would have resorted to violence if the man ever spoke a wrong word to Barriss.

However after that first explosion at the tower, Skywalker seemed to come back to sanity. Apparently, amongst his many talents, Skywalker had a penchant for disabling booby traps. So far, he had discovered and disabled the network of mines buried into the walkways connecting the colonies; disarmed the bombs drilled into the structural trusses of the smaller drilling towers; to mention a few. If anyone was keeping count – and apparently the holoreporters were – Skywalker had saved over a dozen workers from grievous bodily injury, perhaps even death.

If these accomplishments were improving Skywalker's mood, Ferus was yet to see. Skywalker was still as intractable and unapproachable as ever. Because of his unnatural talent, all the teams had no choice but to work with him and they approached him with their hearts in their hands; afraid of both his unpredictable cruelty and the reckless way that he carried out his work. In typical Skywalker fashion, he chose the most unconventional method of doing this – springing them. To say this had caused a few narrow shaves would be a gross exaggeration.

Even now, Ferus noticed that though the Observatory engineers were supposed to be working along with Skywalker, they clustered together a good distance from him and a few kept throwing him wary glances from the corner of their eyes.

Bracing himself, Ferus walked up to the other Jedi.

Skywalker was watching the work with an undecipherable look on his face; he seemed impervious to both the glances sent his way and the man approaching him.

Ferus wondered what he was thinking. Probably of the next nasty thing to say.

"Skywalker."

Skywalker looked up. On closer inspection, the expression on his face was one of relative calm – almost peaceful.

Ferus was immediately on his guard.

"Olin," Skywalker said, politely enough. He inclined his head. "It's remarkable, isn't it?"

Ferus sighed, anticipating a joke at his expense. "What is?"

Skywalker waved his hand, encompassing the work in front of them, or the entire moon, and did not explain further.

After a few moments of pointless waiting, Ferus said, "I want to ask you something."

"Obviously."

"Have you remembered where you first saw that device?" He was referring to the walkway mines and the single explosive that Skywalker had recovered for the analysts. Ferus had been shown the device, and noted that it had no insignia or unique markings and was probably some generic black-market product. He would have thought nothing more of it if not for the fact that one of the analysts mentioned that Skywalker claimed he recognized the device. It was so uncharacteristic of Skywalker to even volunteer information that Ferus had had to pursue it.

"Actually, Olin, I haven't even given it a single thought since I found it."

_ Patience. _ "I think you should, Skywalker. It might be important."

"Yes, I get the reports, too. The Old Folks are all agog with your brilliant detective work. What a clever little canine you've turned out to be. But don't expect me to go digging along with you."

Ferus gritted his teeth and tried to hold on to his temper. He failed.

"Look, Skywalker," he snarled, clenching his fists so that he didn't strike the infuriating man. "I don't know what your problem is but-"

"All right, you guys?"

As if on cue, a clear voice piped up from behind them.

Ferus's heart plummeted to his stomach. Biting back a sigh, he turned around to see the slim figure weaving towards them. _ Of course, she will appear just when I raise my voice_ , he thought, frustrated. He suddenly realized that the busy work site had fallen silent. All eyes were on them.

Hot blood flooded his face.

Anakin smirked openly and took a step back, ostentatiously taking himself out the picture.

"We're fine. I was just asking Skywalker…" Ferus struggled with the pretence at normalcy. "Forget it," he grunted. He caught the eye of a staring Naboo female and glared until she turned back to work. At once, the other workers suddenly became very busy.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Barriss staring at him with a raised eyebrow. Ferus flushed harder. He also noticed that Skywalker was not bothering to hide the malicious smirk on his face.

Thankfully, whatever she thought of his behavior, Barriss chose to keep it to herself. "Ferus, Colonel Panaka's been trying to get you on COMMs. I guess you switched it off because of the work going on here."

"Yes, I did. What does he need?"

"The Sullustans Nian Mib and Dudb Nin are about to be handed over to Coruscant Intelligence and the Royal Guard want to have another go at them to make sure that they haven't missed anything crucial. I tried helping but they always seem to be more co-operative with you…"

"I'm right on it," Ferus said. Anything to get away from Skywalker. He took a few steps when he realized that Barriss was not following. "Barriss?"

Her gaze was fixed on Skywalker; she gave Ferus a faint wave. "In a moment."

Ferus frowned.

Skywalker gave him a pitying look. "Run along now, Olin," he drawled. "Don't fall over your little crush."

Ferus stomped all the way to the garrison.

As it turned out, the Sullustans did have one more bit of information that some Mind Tricking coerced from them. They had confessed during their first interrogation that the Separatist that recruited them was Geonosian. This time around, they admitted that the intergalactic account that had paid their wages originated from Kashyyyk.

It would have meant little to Ferus – it would not be the first time that a Separatist sympathizer was discovered in a Loyalist world – but for the grim look on Panaka's face when he heard the confession.

"You know something about this?" Ferus asked.

"Yes," the Naboo Captain said gravely, and then almost in a half-whisper, he added, "the Senator will not be pleased."

* * *

The Viceroy of Alderaan had departed Coruscant for Naboo on his own transport, separate from the Republic cruiser that carried the Chancellor's contingent. Thus he arrived on-world well before the ill-turn of the global climate that threatened to delay the Chancellor and his company. Queen Jamilla had received him warmly and in good time, he got the requested invitation to meet with his colleague, Senator Amidala.

The aide that led Bail Organa to Padmé Amidala could have been her sister. He was sure he must have seen her a few times in Coruscant. It was always hard to distinguish the handmaidens with their heavy cowls and deliberately cultivated air of _ invisibility_ , for want of a better word. Perhaps on their own world, they were more liberated. This one had her hood down and her long dark hair floated on her back as she walked ahead of him. She moved as gracefully as her mistress; and while he had waited for an audience with Padmé, she had kept him company with conversation that was as charming and amusing as any he had ever had with his colleague. It had almost been enough to make him forget his misgivings about seeing Padmé Amidala. There really was something extraordinary about the women of Naboo.

"Senator Organa here to see you, milady," the handmaiden announced to the small figure seated behind the desk.

Padmé looked up. She didn't smile but her eyes softened in a way that dispelled all of Bail's fears. "Thank you, Dané," she said as she stepped forward, hands outstretched before her.

Bail caught them and looked down at her, feeling a wash of relief washing over him at her warm welcome. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the handmaiden make a discreet retreat.

"I am so so-"

"My most sin-"

They started speaking at the same time then stopped. Then laughed with embarrassment.

"You go first," Bail said graciously.

She pressed his fingers warmly. "Forgive me, my friend for my unspeakable behaviour to you on Coruscant. You didn't deserve it. You have always been one of the few people I can count on. My taking my frustration out on you was completely unforgivable."

He returned the pressure, feeling a lump forming in his throat and it was a while before he could speak, "It is you who should forgive me for not having done enough. In my efforts to protect you, I only ended up insulting you. I have never meant to hurt you, Padmé."

"I know," she said softly. "I know."

He was suddenly acutely aware of her hands soft and warm in his own and gently, her face so close to his that he could see the individual dots that made up the distinctive mole below her cheek. An aura of sadness seemed to enfold her.

"My sympathies to you and your people for the tragedy you suffered on Ohma D'Un," Bail said deeply.

"Thank you."

"If there's anything Alderaan can do, anything at all…"

"I know. Thank you, Bail. Any news from the Senate?"

She was being deliberately professional, recovering from the sudden show of emotion and he had to respect that.

"Farr's still quite passionate about invading Mon Calamari but the argument's losing steam in the Senate." She smiled at that. Bail didn't deem it wise to inform her that this was probably because of the recent activities on her world's moon. He went on to tell her about other recent conflicts and debates, and the role the Senate had been playing in the battles that had been occurring simultaneously with Ohma D'un. A rather diminishing role, he admitted as tactfully as he could. With each conflict, more and more powers had been voted to Palpatine.

He expected her to react at the news that the Chancellor was becoming increasingly stronger in her absence. Instead, her eyes were dark with something else. "More conflicts, you say?"

"Yes," Bail admitted. He had stopped his pacing. "The Separatists launched campaigns almost simultaneously in Pengalon IV, Tarhassen, Qiilura … There have been rumoured sightings of a droid General-"

"A _ droid _ General?"

Bail shrugged. "Like I said rumours. No-one has survived to confirm them," he added ominously. "To say the Jedi are stretched thin would be an understatement. It's almost impossible to imagine us fighting this war without the Clone Army."

Her mouth thinned. "We shouldn't be fighting at all, Bail."

Bail didn't answer directly. He didn't want to say what he had been thinking for a long time – that her campaign for peace and reconciliation might just be too little, too late. "Some might say we've passed the point of no return," he said cautiously.

She cocked her head to one side, those intelligent eyes seeing through his words to his unspoken thoughts. "You think I'm wasting my time on this, don't you, Bail?"

He started, then he threw up his hands helplessly. "I admire your work greatly, you know I do."

"You just feel my efforts will be better directed elsewhere. I understand that. I also understand that the more helpless a situation appears to be, the more imperative it is for something to be done about it."

"Perhaps something is already being done. The Jedi, the Army – if the War could be made to end quickly-"

But she was shaking her head. "Bail, I was there on Ohma D'un. I saw the bodies of the dead." Her eyes closed briefly. They opened with steely resolve. "What difference does it make to the dead, the orphans and the homeless, whether the mad destruction is wrought under the name of the tyrannical Separatists or the holy democracy of the Republic?"

Bail looked away, unable to hold that fiery gaze. He had known Amidala for a long time now. He admired her greatly. He was also extremely concerned for her, and not just for the personal risks she took.

The prevailing political situation had paired the two Senators with identical ideals together. Clearly the leaders of the Loyalist Committee, Bail and Padmé had worked closely together and he had been privy to witness Amidala's idealism and efficiency first hand. He knew what many in the Senate said behind her back – that in exchanging the Naboo Monarchy to become a Galactic Representative, Amidala, in her usual disposition to perfection, had become the consummate politician.

But Bail knew very differently. He knew that behind her unerringly analytic logic and cold manipulation laid a burning flame of idealism and dedication to service. She was a true leader in every sense – strong, unafraid of hard choices and ready to sacrifice everything for the sake of the people that she served.

Bail feared that Padmé Amidala was _ too_ idealistic, _ too _ dedicated, _ too_ ready to sacrifice herself for her people. But he knew her well enough to realize that such an opinion would only fall on deaf ears. So instead, he did the only thing he could do.

"You have my support, Padmé," he said solemnly. His voice was grave even to himself - the strong voice he reserved for direct audience with the masses of Alderaan. "I will not let you down."

The flames died in her eyes, leaving only warmth.

Bail bowed low. "I have no escort and would be honoured if you would accompany me to the reception and then the Ceremony." He raised an eyebrow rakishly.

Padmé actually laughed. "Thank you, Bail. As much as I am loathe to, I will have to turn down your invitation – in a manner of speaking. But I am sure my handmaiden will be delighted if you accompany her."

"Your hand-" Then he understood. "She'll be a decoy. You won't be attending the ceremony."

She shook her head, her smile vanishing slowly. "No, I'm afraid not." There was something in her voice that told him not to ask further.

Feeling a little disappointed at her news, he bowed again. "Let me know when I should make myself available then."

Her smile blossomed again, glorious in its melancholy. "Thank you, Bail for everything. Not the least for informing me in time of the attack on my world's moon." She came to him and took his arm. Another handmaiden was waiting for him in the outer room. So gracefully that he barely noticed, Padmé transferred her charge to the other woman.

He bowed for the last time to Padmé before she disappeared behind the doors, wearing that disquieting melancholy around her like a shroud.

It was much later that her last words of gratitude sunk into his head. She had thanked him for informing her about the attack on Ohma D'un.

The first time Bail had heard about the matter was after Amidala had left Coruscant for the moon.

* * *

According to Colonel Panaka, the Kasyyyk connection could only mean one thing: the Kalmec.

The one-time group of activists, turned terrorists, turned mercenaries for hire to the Separatists had had a run-in with Senator Amidala a few months ago during her now-famous negotiation on the Wookiee world. Perhaps the connection with the attack on Amidala's world was a coincidence – but the Colonel didn't think so and neither Ferus.

It was late in the day by the time he had overseen the dispatch of the Sullustans and the first shift of workers were retiring to the campsites. Ferus joined them, nodding in greeting to some familiar faces, conscious of the deferential distance they gave the Jedi as he moved towards his quarters. Despite their protests that they didn't want to be treated any different, the Padawans had been provided with their own quarters in the campsite – a well furnished set of private rooms, complete with personal consoles.

A good-sized common room was lined with separate doors leading to their individual rooms. Right now, the common room was empty and he could sense that Barriss and Skywalker had not returned. Ferus entered his own chamber, and quickly created a link to Coruscant. As usual, Master Siri received his message and concurred with his suspicions. As usual, she had had instructions for him. The first was welcome – a firm timeline on when their work on Naboo would be deemed complete and when they could return to the Temple. The second was…

"A recognition ceremony?!"

Master Siri looked unnecessarily delighted by his reaction.

"Master Yoda insists. Consider it your most important assignment yet: giving a good face to the Jedi Order."

"Isn't that Skywalker's job?" Ferus grumbled.

"Then perhaps this might help the two of you get along better. It's high time you settle your differences, don't you think? You are not Younglings anymore."

"Master, I don't think-"

"Then don't. Make me proud, Padawan."

The connection ended abruptly leaving Ferus blinking into the empty space in front of him for long seconds, nebulous thoughts racing through his mind.

A recognition ceremony of all things? On the heels of a holocaust? In the middle of an Inter-galactic Civil War? Of all the indulgent, insensitive, ostentatious ideas to come out of the Executive Arm of government? And Yoda _ insisted _ on their attending…

Ferus clamped down on the disloyal thought at once. If Yoda wanted the three Padawans to attend, then it was right for them to attend the ceremony. It was preposterous to think otherwise.

Still the thought of being the one to relay the message to Barriss and Skywalker did not fill him with joy. He went to lie on his cot, wincing as his knee throbbed at the shift in gravity. It happened occasionally when he moved his body after a period of inertia. At least that was one reason to look forward to the Ceremony – the Padawans were to return to Coruscant the day after it was over. There he would have a few days to exercise, meditate, and tune his body back to its previous perfection. Now more than ever, he appreciated Yoda's advice. It was not to practice duels but to peaceful days in the Temple that he looked forward to: talking to his Master, spending time with Barriss, giving Skywalker a wide berth.

Unwillingly, his thoughts went back a few days, to the conversation he had had with Skywalker at the base of the Observation tower; and what he had carelessly revealed to Skywalker concerning his feelings for Barriss.

Or rather what Skywalker had foolishly presumed. He, Ferus did not have feelings for Barriss. Or at least, the feeling he had for her were no more than he would have for a fellow Jedi, a respected colleague. Nothing more.

_(Do you really still believe that?) _

_ Of course I do_ , he said, wincing again – at his knee, nothing else. There were no emotions churning within him, restless and confused. So what if he deeply wished Siri was coming to Naboo? It would be nice to speak to his Master face to face. There was only so much that could be relayed via holo-proj where communications could be viewed by any Jedi with the proper access. It would be nice to speak to _ anyone_ older and wiser who knew him enough to … advise him on certain matters. Siri had said that Obi-Wan Kenobi was coming to Naboo but as close as Master Siri was to Master Kenobi, Ferus would not dare to come to the older Jedi with this problem. As for Shaak Ti, Ferus was too much in awe of the Jedi Master to even think of approaching of her.

Unwillingly, Ferus admitted to himself that he really didn't have too look very far for confidants. A COMM and a short walk away was Barriss Offee – the wisest, most compassionate Jedi of Ferus's own age, and someone who had always been willing in the past to listen to his thoughts. The only problem was that – Barriss _ was _ the problem.

Ferus sighed deeply, gazing up at trusses in the ceiling. The last thing he wanted was to inflict her with a narration of his highly unlikely, most possibly imagined, and definitely unwanted feelings.

_(Imagined?)_

The whole idea was madness. Sheer utter madness. He had better take it off his mind completely. Meditate or something. That was what he needed to do: discipline his mind and his thoughts.

_ What if your feelings aren't unwanted to her?_ An errant little voice whispered in his head. He tried to drive it off but it was quite insistent. He had suppressed it for too long. _ Won't you want to find out?_

Ferus sprang off the bed, ignoring the pain in his knee, and was out of the room before rationality departed him. The night shift had started and there was work being done somewhere in the colonies. Work that would keep these treacherous thoughts from his mind.

He was half-way across the common room when he almost walked into Skywalker and Barriss's auras.

"…worry about you, Anakin." Barriss's voice, soft and caring.

Ferus's feet ground to a complete halt.

From his senses, the others were not far, a few feet behind Skywalker's closed door. Instinctively, Ferus's shields rose up, masking his presence.

"You shouldn't," Skywalker said shortly. "I have Master Obi-Wan for that. I don't need you on my back as well."

There was a sudden awkward silence during which Ferus had to clamp down on the equally sudden urge to run into the room and punch Skywalker in the face. Instead he settled for inching closer to the door. His ears perked up, fine-tuning his hearing with the Force.

"Barriss, I'm-" Skywalker began. At least he had the decency to sound contrite.

"'Tis OK, Anakin," she said softly, her own voice subdued. There was a small pause and when she spoke again, it was with a lightly teasing tone. "Besides, we both know that you need a lot of looking after. Obi-Wan alone shouldn't have to cope with you."

Skywalker was silent. His shields were low for a change and Ferus could sense guilty anger on top of all the other Skywalker emotions.

"Anakin, I'm here for you. If you want to talk… about you and…" She trailed off uncertainly.

The most ominous silence Ferus had never heard seemed to fill the spaces.

"Anakin-" Barriss's voice was beseeching.

"Me and whom?" Skywalker's was cold.

"Do I have to say it out loud? Fine. You and the Senator. Not that it's the best-kept secret in the galaxy."

Wasn't it? Ferus wondered. He certainly hadn't known, although he had had strong suspicions.

Barriss was still speaking. "But Anakin, you told me, remember? Months ago. In the garden, after you and Ferus-"

Skywalker snorted and the tension dissipated. On his part, Ferus winced; the memory of the one and only time he had lost his temper and engaged in crude violence was not an endearing one.

But apparently, Skywalker didn't feel that way. "After I thumped Ferus, you mean."

Ferus bristled. That was certainly not how he remembered it!

"Don't change the topic, Anakin. You're hurting. You've been hurting for a long time." She hesitated. Ferus could hear it in her voice. He had a strong feeling that she was holding something back. But whatever it was, she seemed to decide not to say.

There was the sound of someone moving abruptly.

"What does it matter?" Skywalker's bitter voice came from farther away.

"It matters to me. I want to help you. Please. Talk to me. What you've been through… What you're feeling…" Her voice trailed off. Clearly words failed her to describe the conflicting mess of emotional garbage Skywalker always seemed to carry with him. "You need to let it out. You need to let it go. Can't you see that you can't keep it in no matter how you try? You've started hurting people…"

"Don't you think I've tried? Do you think I want this?" He wasn't shouting. He didn't have to. His voice echoed in the Force with a passionate outcry that would have deafened Ferus if he hadn't been shielded. He felt a rush of concern for Barriss.

There was silence and then she said in a hushed voice, "You can't do it alone, Anakin."

"What if I can't do it at all?"

She sighed deeply. It was a sigh that meant hesitation, yet courage, a firm decision, an offering of friendship, of devotion. There was the sound of movement. She was walking towards Skywalker, probably putting her hand on his shoulder right about now.

"I don't know, Anakin," she answered finally. "But I think that if you don't try, it just might kill you."

Skywalker snorted. "And that's a bad thing, why?"

"Anakin!"

Ferus had heard enough. He slinked away from the door and returned the way he came. He lay on his cot and stared unseeingly at the trusses on the ceiling.

Skywalker. It had always been about Skywalker. Ferus was a fool to not have noticed it before now. But he had been – no, not too blind – he wouldn't hide from the truth, unlike some other people. He had been too hopeful to see.

Barriss was capable of those feelings. She just didn't feel them for Ferus.

* * *

Dané was only supposed to escort Senator Organa to his quarters and pass on the Senator's excuses to Queen Jamilla's handmaidens. The combined errand should have taken the younger handmaiden mere minutes. But after over half an hour of waiting for her counterpart, Dormé threw in the towel and started putting on Senator Amidala's elaborate costume herself. An early fitting wasn't absolutely necessary but the Ceremony was a high profile one and the Senator could not afford for the façade to be anything less than flawless.

It was a heavy affair with layers of skirts, frills and veils and it was certainly not meant to be put on by the wearer. Still, Dormé had had long years of experience dressing others so the job was merely difficult, not impossible.

Standing in a rectangle of mirrors helped. She was almost through with the bodice, and was watching her hands lace up the complicated ribbons at her back when she realized in the nick of time that when she finished knotting, her hands would be trapped in the gown. She took in a deep, long, much-needed breath, then started unknotting the laces. As she started again from the beginning, she tried to make up her mind whom to curse right now – Dané or Padmé.

It was easy to forgive Dané. She was new to all this. The Ceremony had fascinated her and despite all discretion, Dormé had caught the younger girl literally bouncing with excitement over all the changes made in the Palace to host the occasion. She was practically blameless.

As for Padmé…

No, not Padmé, Dormé mentally corrected herself. Senator Amidala. _ Padmé_ had been Dormé's friend. The Senator was a – well, Dormé was too refined to say even in her mind what she thought the Senator was. Nevertheless, she had come close enough to it a few days back while she, Dané and Captain Typho waited in the ship that orbited the moon. That was the moment when they had realized that Padmé sneaked off to the bacteria-infected moon. The Senator's three bodyguards had had a council of war immediately.

"Can we go after her?" Dané had asked reasonably.

"How dare she?" Dormé had exclaimed.

Captain Typho had sighed with the air of a man used to dealing with strong and difficult women. "There's an embargo against landing on the moon. We could defy it but if we do and the Queen finds out, Senator Amidala will be in serious trouble. The best we can do is hope for her to return to us safely and discreetly. Dormé, calm yourself."

"Calm myself?" Dormé all but snarled.

Remembering now, Dormé did snarl as she re-did the complicated laces.

Dané had laid a comforting hand on Dormé's arm and the other shied away at once. "I can take the aloofness, the rudeness, the oh-I-am-suffering-and-everyone-else-should-too attitude from her. But I can't take this. What's the good of anything if she doesn't let me protect her? What's the point if I can't do my job?"

The shock on Dané's and Typho's faces would have almost been comical in their resemblance. Dormé had stormed out of the meeting then. If she had stayed any longer, their shock would have turned to horror. Amidala's most senior handmaiden had burst into tears almost before she entered her chambers.

Dormé did up the bodice again and started putting on the balloon skirts.

The Jedi had saved Amidala in the end. Not just any Jedi – Anakin Skywalker. That probably explained why the Senator would not be attending the Ceremony.

Dormé thought about what she felt about that and decided she did not care. She had had a little petty satisfaction from knowing that Queen Jamilla still discovered Amidala's presence on the moon and had given the Senator a talking to on her return – but it was a satisfaction that shamed Dormé.

She didn't want to feel like this; she didn't want to be angry and resentful and disloyal towards her mistress. But there was only so much a person could take.

She yanked on the gloves viciously.

"Careful," said a soft voice behind her and a hand grabbed her arm. "You shouldn't be doing that alone."

Dormé gave the mirror an irritated glance. "Well, it's about time you showed-" she began and then stopped.

Padmé carefully slipped a glove onto her handmaiden's arm; her quick fingers started fixing up the buttons.

Dormé just stared at her mistress' bowed head in shock.

Padmé did both sleeves while Dormé stood like a frozen marionette. "Is that everything?"

Dormé cleared her throat, regaining her poise. "There's the veil. I can manage that-"

"It's not like I never did up a veil before," Padmé said softly, firmly pushing Dormé into the chair. Dormé looked up at her mistress' face, grave and concentrated as Padmé worked Dormé's long hair into the elaborate coiffure that would support the headpiece. "We used to do this for each other long before Dané joined us, remember?"

"It wasn't for very long," Dormé retorted. "Just a few weeks. Before then, Cordé and Verse were there to help."

Padmé's hands stilled in Dormé's hair for a moment, and Dormé waited almost eagerly for the sharp, caustic remark. The moment passed and Padmé pinned up the hair. She lifted the veil and placed it on her handmaiden's head, carefully folding it back away from her face.

When in public, it would fall down, adding an air of mystery to the 'Senator' and preventing those that knew her too well from recognizing the decoy.

"There," Padmé said softly. "Perfect."

Dormé looked at their faces in the mirror. They shared similar features. Complete strangers would take them as sisters.

Once they _ had _ been as close as sisters. What had happened between them? How had so much changed in such little time?

"What will you do, my lady, while the Ceremony takes place?" She asked impulsively.

"Visit my family. Captain Typho will escort me. It's all being arranged."

Dormé's face fell. "You didn't inform _ me_ , my lady."

Something that seemed contriteness seemed to flit across Padmé's features. It was hard to tell. It had been so long since Dormé had seen it there. "You were busy enough with being decoy. He would have informed you later."

"Like on Ohma D'un?" Dormé said sharply. Padmé flinched and Dormé felt emboldened. "What exactly do I do for you, my lady?"

Padmé gasped. Then she grabbed Dormé on the shoulders, spun the handmaiden around on her stool so that they were glaring into each other's faces.

"How can you say that? You are my friend, my bodyguard, my protection, my advisor-"

"Friend? _ Advisor_ ?" Dormé snorted. She felt relieved, speaking her mind to her mistress like this. It had been too long. "When was the last time you sought my advice? Reacted to my opinion with anything more than contempt."

Padmé's eyes were flashing. Dormé's matched them, glare for glare. It suddenly occurred to her that there was little Padmé could do that would hurt her, Dormé, more than Padmé already had. It was a very liberating feeling.

It was Padmé that broke the stare first. "Dormé-" She stopped. Her mouth opened and moved, although nothing came out. Then she started again, "Dormé. I am sorry."

If the words hadn't floored the handmaiden completely, the contriteness in Padmé's eyes when she turned back to Dormé would have.

"I do value you. My unforgivable behaviour – it's just that. Unforgivable. I pray you find it in your heart to look past that."

Dormé was silent. She wasn't ready to forgive. Padmé had _ hurt _ her. What was friendship without respect? She hadn't received any from Padmé in a long time.

With a sigh, Padmé let go of Dormé's shoulders and turned to go.

"If you do value my opinion, then go to this Ceremony instead of me."

Padmé froze at the door.

"I can't."

It was torn out from her.

Dormé heard her leave, without looking up. She was fighting back her own tears.

* * *


	15. Requiem

**CHAPTER XIV**

**Requiem**

On the twelfth day, the sun refused to come out. Morning dawned dark and stormy on Naboo.

The chant of the Last Passage had begun. The maidens' voices mixed eerily with the swift gales that buffeted against the walls of the Palace.

Anakin Skywalker studied the ominous weather from his window and decided grimly that it rather reflected his mood. He had risen long before the sun. His had been a short sleep, the only kind that he seemed able to have these days, and he wondered if there wasn't some merit in his earlier directive to rest and meditate in the Temple before embarking on another mission. Somewhere during the days on the work sites in Ohma D'un and the two days the Queen had hosted him, Ferus and Barriss in the Royal Palace, he had come to a startling realization – one he hadn't believed himself capable of.

He was tired.

Perhaps it had something to do with being back on Naboo. Really back and not just on her war-torn moon. The water planet called to Anakin's soul in a way that dusty Tatooine and the over-crowded Coruscant had never been able to. From the fresh, breathable air – not dusty like the sand planet or recycled like the city one – her bright, myriad colours – so different from the numbing yellow of Tatooine or the solemn greys and browns of the Jedi – to the sound of rushing water, distant but clear in his mind as a near-by fountain sprayed its life-giving essence back into the ground from which it sprang. An essence that seemed to touch Anakin's own soul, healing it, giving it peace.

Or perhaps, it was something much simpler than all those combined. Perhaps it was simply because he could feel _her _in this world – where she had been born and lived, with roots as deep as the most ancient tree on Naboo. He could certainly feel her in this palace where she had lived for ten years. Where she even stayed right at this moment, mere metres away from him.

After all that had happened, after all that passed between them, he could not say whether her presence was still soothing to him. No, it was more than that. Her presence was a part of him. If he had ever had any delusions that one day, he could be complete without her, seeing her again on Ohma D'un had made him realize that that would never happen.

A heavy wind had started up. The curtains danced against the open windows and the clouds parted to let a ray of sunlight come through. By accident or design, the ray hit his metal hand where it lay against the window sill, and the glow reflected back against his face. Anakin stared at it, considering. He turned it slowly so that the back of his hand rested against the sill, the palm facing up and the fingers spread out. There was a split-second of reaction time. He grimaced. It was acting up again.

He was so used to it now; it was almost a part of his body. He thought about Arcus Novar, and his cybernetic limbs, and Aurra Sing and her taunts. Thought about the anger and impatience with which he had killed the man, almost killed the woman. The coldly analytical part of him realized now that he had been too hasty. Novar at least could have provided some valuable information about the happenings on Ohma D'un. Information that could have saved them everything they had gone through afterwards. The soldier part of Anakin, a part hardened and honed by the war decided that the loss of one more Separatist mercenary was a gain to the Republic. The Jedi part of him…

…didn't know what to think anymore.

He had killed Arcus Novar without remorse, even with near-hatred because the man had attacked Padmé and he would have killed Aurra Sing for the same reason. It was hardly the first time he had killed in the Wars, and it definitely would not be the last. Had he touched the Dark Side? He didn't know. He forced himself to remember that night of blood and hate on Tatooine, the night his mother had left this world and he had sent her murderers after her. He remembered how the Darkness felt then, the mind-numbing, intoxicating, _addictive_ instinct of the destroyer, plundering, devouring everything in its path…

It was nothing like that in the battlefield. As a soldier, he destroyed with less inhibition, more calculation, but did that make it any more 'right'? He knew, for example, that no-one would question him about Arcus Novar's fate. No-one would even think to wonder if Anakin had killed with anything less than perfect Jedi dispassion. His metal hand clenched into a fist and he snorted. As if somehow killing with dispassion made killing any more acceptable. Dead was dead. Did the reasons and the methods really matter?

But Anakin knew that he was more likely to get into trouble for giving a bad impression to the holo-reporters than for the death of Arcus Novar.

When had the rules changed for the Jedi? When did the option of violence over diplomacy become a non-choice? What were the Jedi now really? Peace-makers no longer, that was for sure. Warriors then? Warlords? What would – could – they go back to being after this War?

_"Wars and battles and disease you fight for months! Few days in the Temple you are given to rest and what do you? You duel! You fight! You practice for more wars and battles and blood shed!"_

He would never have believed it of himself but he was beginning to understand why the old troll was so upset that day. His eyes narrowed over the fading glow on his hand. He lifted his other hand and studied them as they lay side by side. If he looked hard enough, he thought he could see where they had been stained with blood from countless lives he had taken in his _service _to the Republic and to the Order.

_If it bothers you so, old troll, then why don't you do something about it? _

At once, his thoughts returned to _her_. To her own different but very significant tactics in the War effort. He smiled bitterly, and wondered self-critically if his own dissatisfaction with the Jedi were as a result of comparing their present philosophy with hers and finding them lacking. Wondered if she found her work, her desperate love for her precious Republic as fulfilling as the love he would have shown her if she had only allowed him the chance.

The wind had stilled and the clouds were thickening over the skies again. A storm was coming. The first few drops of rain mingled with the tears on his face. He raised his mismatched hands to his eyes and let his shoulders heave out all the pain and confusion in his life.

* * *

Padmé Amidala watched the steady slide of water down the windowpanes of her office and thought grimly that it rather reflected her mood.

When she had been a child, it had all seemed so simple. Do the right thing. Serve your people. Serve your world. She had volunteered in the Refugee Relief Movement, served as a legislator, as a Princess, as a Queen. She had become a Galactic Senator, and her boundaries of obligation had extended. But still the same rule – do the right thing and serve.

Of course, service to others had meant her own self coming last. It had seemed simple enough in the beginning – missing her Life Days, the Life Days of her family members, the Festival of Lights… Her grandmother's funeral, her sister's wedding, the birth of her nieces… It had stopped being simple after a while, a constant source of resentment first between her and her sister, then her mother, then even her father, constant, loyal Ruwee Naberrie who had taught Padmé everything she knew about duty and obligation. With varying degrees of gentleness and impatience, her family reminded her how friends who had been in public service far shorter than she had, had retired with families by now. Sabé, Saché, Rabé…

_"The Republic is in tumult but not to fear for Senator Amidala would put it all aright."_

Sola's words. A joke, a very sarcastic, Sola-esque joke. Sola had made that declaration during Padmé's Campaign Against Militarization and Padmé had denied it. But she realized now the truth of those words. Somewhere down the line Amidala of Naboo had began to see herself indispensable to the Republic.

And would anyone blame her? Padmé thought bitterly. The Galactic Senate was two steps away from becoming a mockery of itself. Apart from a handful like Bail Organa and the members of the Loyalist Committee, most senators were more interested in their pockets and their cushy commissions than in their obligations to their people.

Now like a swarm of locusts, those senators were flocking to Naboo, eager to display their 'generosity' because of the favour they hoped to get from the Chancellor; eager to join in the 'victory' celebrations because they wished to bask in the spotlight that was shining on Naboo. That the spotlight came at the cost of three decimated Gungan colonies, and hundreds of dead people was something that either would not occur to them or would not matter to them.

She didn't know which was worse.

Even Palpatine was not above using the attention on his home world to further his own agendas. Now that extent of his emergency powers increased every day, his commitment to stop the Wars was weakening. If Padmé had had her suspicions before then the subtle way he had tried to derail her campaign to Mon Calamari had convinced her. She didn't trust the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic any more to do what was right with the Republic about this War.

The Republic was falling apart around them all. And yes, without people like her nothing would ever get done!

Her anger had come slowly, boiling with each brooding thought and now it burst out of her, steaming. She sprang up from the window-seat and walked to the portraits that hung on her office wall. She glared up at her sister's face, which was smiling with a benignity that was an utter lie.

_Maybe I do think I am indispensable!_ Padmé shouted silently in her head. _But it's not like if I have any other choice. What do you know about public service? Nothing! You have your husband, your children, your loving family. It's because of people like me that people like you can live such charmed lives. Do you think I don't want out? Do you think I don't have dreams, don't have wants, don't know how to love and long for something other than this sterile office and that accursed title Amidala?_

No matter what she had done in the past or would do in the future, she could never give back the lives of the hundreds dead on Ohma D'un. She could never give back the lives of the millions destroyed across the galaxy – of the millions that were been destroyed at this very moment because of this War. She could win a thousand worlds back into the Republic but she could not guarantee that they, like the colonists at Ohma D'un, wouldn't be destroyed in an instant, at a whim. She could give up her whole _life _and everything in it that mattered…

_… and in the end, it might not make any difference._

The tears seemed to explode out of her. Loud braying sobs that wracked her body and made her collapse before the images of her family. There she lay in an undignified heap on the ground, bent so low over herself that her hair brushed the carpeting, her face almost touching the ground.

_"Angel, they call you. Yes, maybe. Of peace, they call you. No, definitely."_

As if on cue, old Yoda's words whispered in her mind. She thought she had buried the memory of that conversation in the deep recesses of her ice-cold heart, but she had been wrong. Ever since Ohma D'un his outrageous offer would echo in her thoughts, taunting her, promising her heaven and hell, bliss and destruction.

Reminding her that everything she wanted was only a broken heartbeat away.

For _he _was here, on Naboo, in the palace, only metres away from her. And she couldn't go to him. No nightmare of her dreams could compare to the one she lived in now. For the past few days, she hadn't been able to sleep for wanting him, hadn't been able to think but about him. She had leave to go to her parents' home but she knew she was in no state to make that visit. Her pride would not let her return to them in the middle of another near-breakdown. Or maybe it was not pride, maybe it was just that as torturous as it was, she would rather be near him and not see him than be away from him at all.

Stars! If she had ever thought that one day she would get over Anakin Skywalker, everything that happened at Ohma D'un had proved her wrong.

All her life, she only obeyed one rule – do the right thing and serve. Her family held it against her now.

What Padmé had never realized was that one day, she would hold it against herself.

Outside, the wind howled. The maidens wailed their last lament of the dead, and of the living that were not alive.

* * *


	16. The Ceremony at Naboo

**CHAPTER XV**

**The Ceremony at Naboo**

The rendezvous point was the M'Haeli system, a snowy isolated world just outside the Inner Rim galactic ring. It was here that a military convoy, led by the Acclamator-class ship _Benevolent_, was waiting to receive a small ARC-170 fighter. The huge ship and its supporting complement of armed military vessels would have appeared intimidating if not for the solid stripes of red marking each vessel that proclaimed them a consular convoy.

Once the fighter had successfully passed various security protocols, the great jaws of _The Benevolent's_ docking bay opened to take the smaller vessel into its belly. Leaving nothing to chance, no ordinary porter droids but an escort of clone troopers were waiting to receive the pilot as she stepped down from the craft. It was long minutes later when the hangar bay doors slid shut behind her and she felt the distant change of the engines that signified _The Benevolent_ had re-entered hyperspace.

Once they arrived in the welcoming chamber of the starship's upper deck, her escorts handed her over to the welcoming presence of none other than Supreme Chancellor Palpatine himself.

"Your Excellency," said Jedi Master Aayla Secura, bowing deeply.

Palpatine returned the bow. "We are honored that you were able to join us, Master Secura. I trust that your campaign in Aereen went well."

"Yes," Aayla said, as together, they walked down a long corridor that led to Palpatine's private staterooms. "But it was not an easy victory for the Republic. Every day, the Separatists seem to develop more and more droids with more and more sophisticated capabilities. You have heard of the new IG-300 _Hailfire_ super droid tanks? Just one has enough fast-firing missiles to take out a battalion of AT-TE walkers. Their shield generators make them almost impervious to laser assault. I don't even want to think about what they could do to a peaceful world… the casualties could enter the millions."

"Yes, I have read the Intelligence reports."

"Then there are these rumors of an indestructible droid general."

"I have heard the _rumors _as well. Until they're confirmed, that is what they will remain. A story created by our enemies to strike fear into the heart of the Republic."

Aayla was silent. Perhaps Palpatine was right. But dead beings could not confirm or deny rumors. Not even dead Jedi.

"Master Secura," Palpatine said firmly, "whatever advantage the Separatists may appear to have, I promise you that it is a temporary one. We should never forget that the Republic has one advantage that the Separatists will never have." He stopped and so did she. His eyes were the gravest she had ever seen.

"And what is that, Your Excellency?"

"We have the Jedi and the Force on our side. I strongly believe that this war is a war of faith. In the end, good always triumphs."

There was nothing Aayla could say to counter that.

After a moment, they started walking again, passing through the doors into Palpatine's salon. It was a large expanse of space, luxuriously decorated as befitting the Chancellor's transport. The large port-windows had been screened with montages from various cultures and it provided an interesting backdrop to the myriad of species and auras gathered there. Pockets of conservationists loitered about the place and came to a gentle halt at the arrival of the Chancellor. Slowly, the occupants of the room, consisting mostly of dignitaries and high-ranking Government officers, gravitated towards the Chancellor with varying levels of deference. He replied courteously but did not stop to engage in any conversation. After a while, they floated back into their original orbits, though Aayla noticed that the awareness in the room had reformed from separate clusters to a single net with the Chancellor, who now stood at a corner of the room with Aayla, at the mental centre.

Discreetly, Aayla scanned the crowds and quickly identified Senators, Representatives, and Planetary Monarchs… Naboo would certainly play host to a large attendance.

As if he had read her mind, Palpatine declared, "What do you think about Queen Jamilla's idea to celebrate the recent victory on Naboo? I personally think it was inspired but then again, I will always embrace a reason to come home." He chuckled and Master Secura smiled despite herself. She had very strong feelings against the Queen's idea but she was here as a representative of the Council, not as an individual.

"It would appear from the turn-out of invitees that a reason to celebrate was more than welcome in these times. Never have so many VIPs from all over the Republic been assembled so closely in one space," she mentioned pointedly.

The Chancellor looked at her shrewdly. "You are worried that the Separatist could see this as an opportunity to launch an attack."

"Yes, I am," Aayla said plainly. "I have reservations about such a high profile ceremony taking place outside the protected confines of Coruscant." She did not mention that most of the Jedi disagreed with the need for the ceremony in the first place. Service should be reward in itself.

"I worried too at first," Palpatine said gently. "But Queen Jamilla is a cautious woman. She assured me that every security measure has been taken into consideration. The Naboo Royal Guards and the Republic garrison stationed on the Gungan moon are more than sufficient. Best of all, the Jedi, in its good graces, has seen fit to send you, Master Ti and Master Kenobi. Not to mention the three exceptional Padawans being honored on Naboo."

The Jedi Master nodded politely.

Palpatine continued persuasively, "As you mentioned, a reason to celebrate is more than needed in these times. The risks of forgetting how to celebrate peace can be as dangerous as the risks taken to maintain peace."

Despite herself, she could not but agree with the Chancellor.

There was a sudden warmth in her consciousness; a familiar presence was approaching. Aayla looked up as her fellow Council-member, Master Shaak Ti, stepped into the salon and walked towards Aayla and the Chancellor.

"Chancellor. Master Aayla." She bowed.

Aayla returned the greeting. Palpatine said cheerfully, "So glad of you to join us, Master Ti. What about Master Kenobi?"

"He might join us later. Right now, he's on the observation deck meditating. Everything is secure, Chancellor."

Palpatine laughed. "Indeed. I was just discussing the same with Master Secura here."

The three exchanged a few casual words but it was soon clear that Shaak Ti's arrival had ended Secura's and Palpatine's conversation because soon the Chancellor was giving his excuses.

Aayla watched him go, his dark robes swishing past the doors. He clearly felt very secure on this vessel; his usual phalanx of Red Guards were nowhere in sight.

When Palpatine had gone, the limelight of interest on the Jedi diffused away. Aayla felt an easing of tension that she had not even realized she'd been feeling. Clearly being the centre of attention had bothered her more than she had originally thought. If she, a Master and member of the Council, could feel that way under the reflected spotlight of the Chancellor, how would the young Padawans withstand being directly under the spotlight – literally and figuratively – during the Ceremony?

Shaak Ti said in a low voice, "I do not like it either… this ceremony, this charade." Unsurprisingly, she had sensed Aayla's uneasiness and its cause.

Aayla concurred. "It is pretentious. We Jedi should be somewhere else. Somewhere we are needed." She thought of the people of Aereen. Although loyal to the Republic, they had not been too happy about the permanent presence of the Republic garrison that she had stationed there. She would have liked to have helped them make the transition.

"So did I think. Master Windu was going to refuse, but Master Yoda reasoned that the Jedi could certainly use the good publicity right now. There's nothing more exciting than three young heroes."

Aayla shrugged. "I see his wisdom, but I hope it does not create discord among the other Padawans."

"Hopefully, this mission on Naboo has finally taught Anakin and Ferus the lesson they needed to learn from one another." Shaak Ti's voice became solemn. "And helped the Chosen One find the peace to follow his path."

Aayla Secura stared at Shaak Ti's grim face, realization slowly dawning on her.

* * *

The meteorologist's report had cautioned bad weather on Naboo. The arrival of the _Benevolent_ had been delayed by an hour.

Obi-Wan wondered if there was a way to delay the arrival indefinitely. That he was not looking forward to returning to Naboo was a big understatement. He stared at the streaks of hyperspace lines flashing across the plasti-glass in the empty observation deck, and wondered if it would be permissible for a Jedi to direct hatred at an inanimate object.

Not that Obi-Wan _hated _Naboo, of course. He just wondered.

He admitted to himself that he did not want to return to Naboo. But his reports to the Council from Mon Calamari had already convinced them that it was safe to remove him from that world for a while. As much as Obi-Wan wanted to stay, there had been no reason to remain on Mon Calamari. The situation had not changed since the Jedi arrived there. If anything, it had become more stable: Mon Calamari was increasingly welcoming to the media and refugees. Sensations in the Senate over the matter were losing their steam; the arguments for the invasion had long lost their effectiveness and there were far more pressing issues cropping up everyday. Thus when the message from Coruscant came with Yoda's instructions that Obi-Wan attend the Ceremony on Naboo and leave Bant to manage the Mon Calamari operation solely… there had been very little Obi-Wan could do about it.

The Force had a sense of humor, didn't it? Out of all the numerous worlds his Padawan had done wonders in, it was the one that Obi-Wan

_(hated)_

was least fond of that had chosen to honor Anakin.

But what did it matter that for him, this world held all the fascination of repulsion? Not being here for Anakin if Obi-Wan had a choice in the matter was unthinkable.

With a deep sigh, he let it go – his misgivings of this Ceremony, his ambiguous feelings toward this venue, his constant worry of his Padawan – and the Force accepted them. Stretching out, Obi-Wan found his fellow Jedi amidst the cacophony of other lifeforms, and sensed worries not dissimilar to his own that were also being released into the Force.

A soft cough broke into his reverie and Obi-Wan spun violently, only to glare into the startled eyes of the Supreme Chancellor.

"I am so sorry, Master Jedi!" Palpatine cried, a hand to his heart. "I did not know you were meditating!"

"Don't be, Chancellor," Obi-Wan replied automatically. His hand slowly fell from where it had flown to his lightsaber's hilt. "And pardon me for frightening you," he added apologetically.

The Chancellor laughed, highly as if he was still little bit startled. His hand was still on his heart. "I guess no one ever feels completely safe, these days. Not even on a ship with three Jedi." He appeared to be unaccompanied, without his usual Red Guards, which was unusual but not strange: the vessel was completely secure.

Obi-Wan nodded silently. He had little to say, caught up as he was with his thoughts. Besides, Palpatine was not someone Obi-Wan would normally choose as a conversation partner.

But like it or not, the Chancellor seemed to have chosen him. He dropped his hand from his chest and proceeded to launch into a long conversation about the exploits of the Jedi Padawans they were going to decorate. Not surprisingly, he spoke at length about Anakin, gushing his praise in that insidiously proprietary manner that never failed to raise Obi-Wan's hackles.

"His prowess in the Wars has been phenomenal," Palpatine exclaimed. "Where he gets his drive is a mystery."

_Drive? _Obi-Wan thought with considerable irritation. _He's a Jedi, not a lobbying Senator! He does his duty._

Outwardly, he nodded serenely.

Palpatine prattled on, "Any moment now, he would be taking his Trials, I suppose. If he still needs them, that is." And he laughed his laugh again.

Obi-Wan stared. "Excuse me?"

"Just a layman's opinion," the politician chattered. "But it goes without saying, doesn't it, Master Kenobi? For a Jedi of Anakin's powers, it is only a matter of time. He's fared in places that Council members failed."

"You have discussed this with Anakin?" Obi-Wan asked brusquely.

"Of course not!" Palpatine seemed shocked again.

"I will thank you not to, Chancellor," the Jedi said and even he could hear the hardness in his voice. "The Council keeps their own counsel in these matters. It would be better not to raise this topic with Anakin."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Palpatine said airily, apparently taking no notice of Obi-Wan's hard tone.

At that moment, the Public Address units announced that the vessel was about to come out of hyperspace. With one last ingratiating smile, the Chancellor finally wandered off to the observation deck, leaving behind a young Jedi Master with three new worries:

One: how would he deal whatever nonsense about Knighthood and Trials the wily politician would soon be pouring into his Padawan's ear?

Two, and puzzling: why hadn't he been able to sense Palpatine's approach when he, Obi-Wan had been deeply immersed in the Force?

Three and most disquieting: when he had felt Palpatine's presence, why had his hand gone instinctively for his blade?

* * *

Obi-Wan was not one of the first to disembark from the Republic Cruiser. That honour was reserved for the Supreme Chancellor and his escort of Red Guards. But the Jedi Master fared well enough for himself, coming out well before the small hoard of Senators who were pushing to stand as near Palpatine as possible.

The meteorologists had been right. It was wet weather that met them on Naboo – the first of its kind Obi-Wan had ever seen on the planet. Gungan bubbles serving as excellent rain-shields were placed over the landing square and the plaza where the reception committee waited for the Chancellor's retinue.

Waiting to receive them was Queen Jamilla herself, as well as Senator Amidala,

_(Senator Amidala! No-one told me she had returned to Naboo!)_

the Royal Council and several colourful Naboo dignitaries. Obi-Wan ignored all of them, his eyes making a bee-line for his Padawan who stood straight and composed beside Padawans Olin and Offee.

Outwardly composed.

Anakin was quite firmly shielded, far more than the occasion warranted and the only access Obi-Wan had to him was through their bond. It was open, thankfully – although he had had no reason to think it wouldn't be – and the Master could feel a myriad of disturbing emotions churning within his Padawan.

_Oh this is going to be fun_.

Instinctively, Obi-Wan's eyes went to Padmé Amidala. Her dark veil hid her face from his view but he was looking at her with more than his eyes, and he quickly realized the truth. _That _was not Senator Amidala. He relaxed somewhat.

It took long enough but the elaborate exchange of greetings between Chancellor and Royalty was completed and Palpatine now took his rounds acknowledging the rest of the welcoming party.

Obi-Wan was too far away to hear the exchange between Palpatine and 'Senator Amidala'. It was brief enough. Then the Chancellor went on to congratulate the Jedi Padawans. A long, involved congratulation by the looks of it and Obi-Wan was struggling valiantly with his patience by the time Palpatine finished and moved on with the rest of his retinue.

Now that he was here, the Ceremony would soon start.

"Master, I'm glad you could come," Anakin said when Obi-Wan finally reached him. His eyes were full and there was a frightening moment when Obi-Wan thought the boy would hug him. Instead, he settled for a polite bow.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan said by way of wary reply, still taken aback at the near display of affection. It was from near but safe distance that he studied his Padawan. From all indications, Anakin hadn't suffered much physical damage on Ohma D'un. It was his soul that seemed to have taken the beating.

"Congratulations, Padawans," Master Secura said to the three of them. Obi-Wan felt the Force brush up against him – the mental equivalent of a slap on the back of his head.

He smiled ruefully as he turned to greet Olin and Offee. Yes, he supposed it had been rude of him to zero in on his own Padawan, especially as the Masters of these two were not here.

"Congratulations as well," Obi-Wan said to each in turn. "I have read the reports. You did fine work on the moon."

Barriss Offee bowed and smiled charmingly, every bit as graceful as Obi-Wan remembered. Ferus Olin, who had never before lacked poise, replied with a stiff bow. Obi-Wan was surprised. A little investigation in the Force revealed that the other Padawan was quite heavily shielded, also out of proportion to the occasion. Had he and Anakin had one of their now commonplace clashes?

_It just keeps getting better and better. _

A Palace attendant was approaching them.

"Ah," Master Ti said, "the ceremony is about to begin."

The Jedi saved the attendant the trip and moved onto the reception hall.

Unlike the last time Obi-Wan had attended such an occasion on Naboo, the Queen – or the weather – had decided to host the ceremony indoors. The hall was glorious, decorated with fine tapestries, colourful drapes and everything that could delight and dazzle the eyes. But it lacked the simple, natural beauty of the Naboo outdoors.

"Ladies and Gentleman of Naboo, honored guests, welcome to Theed Palace. Today we honor those heroes who have so bravely fought and died to protect these lands, our home. It is my honor and privilege to preside over this ceremony…"

Palpatine's speech droned on and on. Obi-Wan tried not to fidget where he stood beside Barriss and Anakin. He would hardly be in a position to tell his restless Padawan to stay still if he could not.

And Anakin _was _restless, even more so than usual. His frame was still enough, taut as a tightly wound Wookiee drawstring. It was his eyes that seemed to flit here, there and everywhere, scanning the hall with a stark desperation that dared anyone to question it.

Obi-Wan's eyes met Barriss's and was startled to see his own concern mirrored there.

"_Jedi Padawan Barriss Offee!"_

Palpatine's booming roar startled both of them badly. Barriss's face twisted apprehensively and Obi-Wan gave her an encouraging smile. He didn't envy her.

She smiled back wistfully, squared her shoulders and made her graceful way to the stage. Applause followed.

A shudder in the Force made Obi-Wan start and he quickly glanced at his Padawan. In his distress, Anakin had become careless with his shielding. The agitation coming from him was alarming.

Remembering their last conversation, Obi-Wan decided to just get straight to the point:

"Was Padmé Amidala on Naboo during the attack on Ohma D'un?"

Anakin looked at him, startled. Then his face clouded and in an indescribable voice he said, "The Senator was on Ohma D'un."

Obi-Wan felt his eyes widen despite himself. Anakin held his gaze for a while, then he turned away. His eyes continued their frantic searching.

The mystery – if it had ever been one – was solved. Anakin was searching for the Senator. Hoping against hope that she would be here at the ceremony.

Obi-Wan processed this new information. So Anakin and Amidala had encountered each other during the mission at Ohma D'un. Yet there was no sign of Amidala here. And if the disappointment coming off Anakin in waves was any indication of the matter, then those encounters had certainly not led to reconciliation.

Obi-Wan didn't know what he felt about that. On the one hand, it was a good thing that the dangerous liaison had not been resumed. On the other hand...

It had been too long since Obi-Wan had seen his Padawan happy.

"_Jedi Padawan Ferus Olin!" _

_Force! _Obi-Wan shouted mentally, almost jumping at Palpatine's bellow. Ferus, who had stood at the far side of the hall, was now limping towards the stage. _Of all the Sithing-_

"_Why do I torture myself?"_

Obi-Wan started at the sudden whisper of unguarded thought – from Anakin. He looked at his Padawan sharply, could see the young man's cheeks reddening at having betrayed himself so easily, could feel him desperately trying to raise his shields again.

"Anakin-"

"Do you think the bio-attack is linked to the same one Barriss encountered in Thyferra?" Anakin cut in desperately.

The blatant avoidance of a confrontation was clear. Obi-Wan hesitated, not sure whether it was wise to play along with this game.

Not waiting for a reply, Anakin rushed on: "I've been thinking, perhaps it has something to do with that chemical scientist we encountered a few years back. Zenna Arbor? She would be the type to work with Separatists and we can…. we can…" His voice drew to a shaky halt as Obi-Wan's hand rested heavy on his shoulder. He lifted his eyes and they were full of pain. "Obi-Wan," he said pleadingly.

"They are calling you," Obi-Wan said softly.

"What?" Anakin looked up in shock. The spotlight was on him. Palpatine's eyes were staring at them with impatience. His cheeks reddened as he drew himself up.

"Chin up, Poster boy," Obi-Wan said gently, giving Anakin's shoulder one last squeeze. He stepped back into the shadows and let Anakin take his moment of glory.

Anakin took in a deep breath, visibly collecting himself. Then he started moving. Obi-Wan could almost see him slipping into the role, throwing his shoulders back, walking stern and straight to that stage. Adulation followed Anakin all the way. The Naboo around him were going wild but his face was an emotionless mask as he approached Palpatine. Mere months ago, this same young man's existence had seemed to be solely for praise. The Jedi Knight had promised himself not to be surprised by his apprentice any more; but every now and then, it hit Obi-Wan hard just how far Anakin had come. Bittersweet emotions filled the Jedi Knight.

_Chin up, straight back. Good boy_. _Never let the world know you're dying inside._

Ten years ago on this same world, Obi-Wan himself had stood behind the Queen and smiled to the people of Naboo like a brave, strong Jedi Knight; but in his heart, he had been little more than a frightened young Padawan whose Master had been cruelly taken from him.

Then not long ago, Obi-Wan had almost lost his own Padawan to a woman from this world. – the same Queen, no less. Was it no small wonder that he

_(hated)_

had so little liking for Naboo?

A cheer from the crowd tore him from his sober thoughts.

"… whose cunning thinking and fearless deeds saved us all…"

Palpatine was in true form now. His speech about Anakin went on for close to fifteen minutes with no sign of winding down.

"…courage inspires us in these dark times…"

Anakin's Master was inspired with suspicion.

_Whatever are you up to, Palpatine?_

Obi-Wan had long given up trying to rationalize the causes of his intense dislike for the Chancellor. He could itemize them if he wanted to – natural distrust for politicians; and jealousy of Anakin's adoration towards to man – to mention a couple. Yet none of them explained Obi-Wan's knee jerk reaction when he encountered the man in the Cruiser, en route to Naboo.

"…Jedi Padawan Anakin Skywalker!" Palpatine gave the final rounding close to his speech with extra flourish.

Queen Jamilla placed the medal over Anakin's neck and the crowd went wild. Straightening, Anakin did not even crack a smile. If anything he probably flinched.

The pain and despair rolling off his Padawan was hollowing out Obi-Wan's own heart. He made up his mind there and then that the moment Anakin stepped off that stage, he'd haul the boy – young man – off to a private corner and then, they would talk. About Amidala. About the war. About everything. Anakin simply couldn't go on like this a moment longer.

All around them, the Naboo were ecstatic. In a time of war, so close to having their world destroyed, they were more than willing to rejoice on behalf of their unwilling heroes. Their emotions surged in the Force – joy, delirium, envy – yes, pride, love, pain, need.

_Need._

Obi-Wan gasped. The pulsing aura of the crowded faded into the background as he zeroed in on this singular torment.

Like something buried that had come to life. Or better yet, something buried alive that had clawed its way to freedom. It seemed to eat its way through Obi-Wan's soul. He couldn't understand how any one person could contain so much feeling and not be crippled or dead from holding it in.

Obi-Wan felt hot and cold and guilty just from being in the same room with such turmoil. But his eyes in the Force and without were already searching for the source.

It didn't take long to find.

* * *

The act of making oneself invisible in a large crowd, in an even larger open space, was nearly impossible, especially when the person in question was a famous former resident. Still, Padmé Amidala managed rather well.

The corseted bodice of the former Queen of Naboo rose and fell with measured breaths. The dark velvet hood of her cloak brushed against her eyelashes. She moved cautiously through the edge of the crowd.

She didn't know why she was here. She had _promised_ herself she wouldn't come, and for a while it seemed that she was going to keep that promise. Her family had been expecting her. The escort had been ready. She had been leaving her office, after doing a last minute perusal of the items she would take with her. Captain Typho was waiting at the door. She had walked up to him and shaken her head.

"I'm not going."

There had been too much understanding in Typho's eyes. "I'll inform your family, my lady."

She had nodded and before she could even think about what she was doing, she had started making her way to the venue of the ceremony. She had arrived just moments after Ferus Olin's name was called.

_Force, why is this so hard? Why can't I stay away from him?_

Ohma D'un had been bad enough. Those moments in his proximity had almost undone her and she knew he had fared little better. Even now, her hands shook when she remembered the risks he had taken in that battle. The risks he always took…

Stars, she didn't want this! She never asked for this! But she couldn't help herself. She was as powerless to stop _caring_ as she was to stop the suns from setting.

She would love nothing more than to blame Yoda's insidious counsel, but she could not deceive herself. This had been coming since the day she sent him away.

She _needed_ to see him again.

"…Jedi Padawan Anakin Skywalker!"

Her breath caught. Trembling fingers pressed onto the cold marble until her knuckles were white. Despite herself, her heart was swelling with pride as she drank in the sight of the tall, brave man that had stolen her heart and wouldn't… couldn't… let it go.

Anakin took strong, slow steps onto the platform. Queen Jamilla's painted face emerged from behind the Chancellor to present his award. His lanky height was too much and he had to bend down for her to gently place a medal around his neck. Barriss Offee and Ferus Olin were already standing in formation, medals gleaming. As Anakin turned center stage the crowd responded with enthusiastic applause. She did not hear it.

All eyes were focused onto the award recipients. Padmé stepped from outside the protection of the massive stone pillar. With suddenly steady hands, she lowered her hood, allowing dark curls to spill over her shoulders. Her conscious mind and will were frozen; she couldn't take her eyes of him.

* * *

When Obi-Wan had left him to walk that stage alone, it was all Anakin could do to not to feel overcome by grief. Even though he had practically seen the question marks flashing in Obi-Wan's eyes, his presence had been a comfort to Anakin. Apart from the day he lost his mother, the young Padawan couldn't remember feeling so wretched in his life.

Why had Anakin ever entertained the notion that _she_ might have come? She had been the one who had made it clear – on Naboo, in Ohma D'un that she never wanted to see him again. Why did he think anything would have changed?

Why had Palpatine insisted on this stupid Ceremony?

Anakin felt like such a fool, such a hopeless lovesick fool. The Force touched him kindly but he refused to draw comfort from it.

Around him, the crowd continued to cheer. Chancellor Palpatine grinned broadly. Barriss and Ferus gave small, humble smiles. Shaak Ti and Aayla Secura watched the stage in mild displeasure. Anakin Skywalker looked numbly into the faces of the proud Naboo.

_I was only doing what was required. _

He searched for his Master's face for some sanity in all this unmerited adulation. Obi-Wan stood in the shadows. Rather disappointingly, he was not even looking up at the stage but elsewhere, towards the back of the crowd. Anakin's eyes automatically followed his Master's until he locked gazes with a pair of forest-brown eyes.

The sinuous dance of the Force imperceptibly slowed; he could barely sense its touch upon his skin. All Anakin could feel was her pounding heartbeat which was somehow managing to fuse its rhythm with his own.

This time, there was no mistaking who she was.

_Padmé_.

He couldn't hide the look of shock on his face, all his training to the contrary evaporated instantly.

"Anakin…"

She wasn't moving, not even _blinking_.

"_Anakin!"_

Barriss was grabbing his arm. Her impure touch felt like a violation.

"_Anakin_… we have to go."

She was trying to pull him off the stage, but his feet were tripping over each other. He had never been so ungraceful. The crowd's applause was scattered now. He could feel curious eyes upon him. He ignored them, struggling to find Padmé again now that he had lost her gaze. He almost began to panic.

But she had not moved. Her face was still a mask. As Anakin's eyes met hers again, she raised the hood back over her head. There was a pause, pregnant with expectation, and Padmé turned around and walked west into an empty, darkened corridor. She didn't hesitate, or look back.

She wanted him to follow.

* * *

When the three young Jedi stepped off the stage, the crowd pressed in on them like a swarm of Corellian bees. Everyone was trying to congratulate them, call them heroes, shake their hands.

Or more accurately, the crowd pressed in on Anakin. The attention they paid to Barriss and Ferus was cursory compared to the way they practically drowned Anakin in their adoring smiles, saccharine voices and grasping hands. He was better than any holovid star, the Hero Without Fear in the flesh, and they all wanted a piece of him.

Never had Anakin seemed to want attention less. He struggled to break free of the mob. A Gungan general stepped in front of him. Anakin unceremoniously pushed him out of the way. Over a Bothan's head, Ferus threw him a warning look.

"Anakin!"

It was Barriss; she had been next to him the entire time.

"Anakin, be careful," she hissed into his ear.

"I…. I have to go… _now_." His eyes were wild and panicky. He yanked his arm violently.

Barriss gently extricated the arm from the offending grip of a young Twi'lek Princess. Leaving a suspicious-looking Ferus to deal with their collective admirers, Barriss skillfully maneuvered Anakin away from the mob and out of the hall. The quiet serenity outside compared to the organized chaos inside was startling.

"Why do you have to go? What's going on?" She asked promptly. She put her hand on his shoulder; almost gasping at the way his aura radiated flames of tension, of anticipation so acute that it was almost desperation. This was nothing like the tetchy moodiness of the past few days. Something was desperately wrong. Her heart ached for her friend. If only she, Barriss, could help him. If only he would let her…

But rather, Anakin was almost jumping out of his skin in his eagerness to get away from her.

"I have to go… I'll contact you later."

He barely looked at her, slipping away from her hold as he quickly turned and disappeared into an empty passageway.

Barriss bit her lip sadly, unable to do anything but watch him go.

* * *

Padawan Offee was not the only one watching a desperate Anakin vanish deep into the Palace. Between congratulatory words and gracious gestures, Chancellor Palpatine's eyes – visible and invisible – had seen all.

As young Skywalker disappeared into the shadows, Darth Sidious smiled.


	17. A Jedi’s Reward

**CHAPTER XVI**

**A Jedi's Reward**

Anakin could just see Padmé's cloak ahead of him, swirling and dipping across the floor. Her steps were silent on the marble. He had only been to the Palace a couple of times; if he took his eyes off her he would be lost. Just before she disappeared around a corner, he thought she glanced briefly in his direction.

His pace quickened.

He rounded the corner and stopped short. At the end of a short hallway was a set of open double doors. Beyond the doors she stood in front of a blazing fire, her back turned to him.

_Padmé. _

For long moments, he just stared at her, transfixed. She had thrown back her hood and dark curls trailed to her waist. The old urge to rush to her side and run his fingers through her hair, to find out if it really felt as velvety as it looked, threatened to overcome him. He held himself back sternly. This was Padmé's game and the next move was hers.

"I'm glad you came. I wasn't sure… I'm glad."

Her soft words, said so softly, so uncertainly, almost broke him. He dragged his eyes away from her and stared into the white-walled room. It was filled with bright tapestries and objects of intricate beauty. Her private Palace chamber. He had only glimpsed it once. Not far from here would be the yellow-walled stateroom where she worked. Where she had told him in no uncertain words that he was no longer a part of her life.

Even now, the memories still burned.

"_I want you to leave, Anakin." _

Yet here she was alone. With him. Whom she had lured here. He couldn't begin to fathom why.

"Anakin." Her shoulders rose and fell.

Her voice was like fire in his veins.

Helplessly, he took a step through the doorway, hesitation heavy in his boots. "Padmé."

She turned around to face him.

Behind him, the doors swung shut.

* * *

The massive, ornate doors framed Anakin's dark form. Against them, he looked almost small, vulnerable. His face was naked; every emotion – anger, hope, need, fear, love – plain for her to see. It physically hurt Padmé to look at him.

"Anakin, I…" His eyes, those blue shard-like eyes seemed to bore right into her. Her throat closed painfully over her voice and she stopped. Swallowed hard. Tried again. "I'm so… Thank you for coming, Anakin."

He just stared her, silent, his jaw clenched, his hair falling softly into his eyes. She had forgotten how his beauty disarmed her. Nothing had ever broken the perfect composure of the stoic Senator from Naboo like Anakin Skywalker.

From the moment she had left her office for the ceremony, events had unwound themselves beyond the power of her control. Just like everything that involved her and Anakin Skywalker. There was no reason, no logic, no plan. There just was.

In the fireplace the flames crackled. Their reflection sparkled in Anakin's eyes like a strangely metaphorical dance. Neither his gaze nor his silence wavered. As she watched, the riot of exposed emotions in his blue eyes turned implacable, like candles being extinguished one at a time. He was trying to close himself off from her.

Whatever last lingering misgivings she harbored towards this encounter, the sight of Anakin walling himself from her vanquished them. She hadn't wanted to believe it but the evidence was before her very eyes. Anakin needed saving. And what sense did it make to save the galaxy entire if she could not act to save the man she loved?

"Anakin." She unclenched her hands, held one beseechingly towards him. "Please, I want to talk. Can we talk?"

* * *

A halo of orange firelight danced around her dark green silhouette.

_Here is Padmé Naberrie, trembling in front of me, asking me to _talk_. _He had dreamt of moments like this so often that a part of him still wasn't sure this was real.

From the desperation in her eyes he drew a horrible sort of satisfaction.

"How may I be of service, Senator?"

Like he intended, his cold, formal address made her flinch. Her hands clenched and unclenched. "Anakin, please."

He smiled joylessly. "As a Jedi, it is my sworn duty to render help to those in need."

She backed up as he drew nearer. Her voice was small, nervous. "I want to explain…"

"Oh, pardon me, milady!" Anakin exclaimed with mock-realization. "I am no Jedi, after all. Just a Padawan learner."

Grief welled up in the brown pools of her eyes and Anakin fell silent at once. Whatever lengths he had planned on carrying his façade of cruel indifference, they ended at the sight of her pain.

Guilt and anger warred in him and he looked away, into the fire. He breathed sharply, trying to focus his mind, willing the Force to give him peace.

"What is there to explain? What can you possibly say to me?" He choked out the words through the knot in his throat.

From the corner of his eye, he could see her hands fold back around each other. "I want to explain about why… I'm so sorry, Anakin. I never meant… I never meant to hurt you."

He snapped.

"Don't you lie to me!" he roared. He had rounded on her, backed her up against the wall before he had even realized what he was doing. "You knew you were going to hurt me! You counted on it. It was your plan, wasn't it? Hurt the silly little Jedi boy until he's 'over' you. Wasn't it? _Wasn't it?_" He smashed his metal hand into the wall beside her head.

"No!" Padmé shouted. "No! It was never like that!"

"What was it then? Go ahead and explain it to me!"

"I wanted you to let go, yes! But not by manipulation or lies. You read my letter. I never hid my feelings for you. I never pretended not to care!"

That letter was on him even now, pounding against his left breastbone. He carried it everywhere. A reminder of broken promises and shattered dreams. A reminder that he'd have to be a fool to trust her ever again.

"What was Ohma D'un about then?" He growled, reliving the pain and confusion he had felt then at how she had thrown her duty in his face yet again. How she had avoided him since then. How she had acted like if the kiss they had shared had meant nothing. Like if _everything_ that had ever happened between them meant nothing.

"I was confused, too, Anakin! I never expected to see you there… and then we kissed and then…" Her eyes suddenly flashed fire. "I didn't expect to meet you there! If I had known, maybe things might have been different. I don't have all the answers. You're the Jedi, not I! I've never claimed to have all the answers!"

His eyes blazed back. He could feel the banks of flame burning in his face. The rage actually blurred his vision. "_Don't know_? You claim you don't know but you make all the decisions for us! _I_'ve only ever been sure of one thing in my entire life, Senator. I've only ever-" Suddenly and horrifically, he realized that the flames in his face were the burning sting that preceded the outbreak of bitter, angry tears. He turned away, and rushed to the door, determined to get as far away from her before he shamed himself once more in her eyes.

"Anakin!"

"Leave me alone!" he howled.

She moved faster than Anakin thought possible and before he realized it, she was between him and his escape, her hands curled into his tunic. He tried to pull away but she held fast. Desperately, he turned his face away but it was already too late. The knot had dissolved and a single tear rolled itself down his cheek. He let out a despairing sob.

Her hand was strong on his chin and against his will, he looked at her. Her face hadn't twisted into the contempt that he had been afraid to see. It was softened into compassion so deep; it made the tears flow faster.

"Ani," she whispered. Her free hand reached for his cheek –

He grabbed her wrist with his metal hand.

She gasped. "Please let me…"

"Don't touch me! Don't you ever touch me!"

"O gods!" Her despair almost stabbed him right in the heart. "Won't you ever forgive me?"

Almost.

"Why should I?" He snarled. "I gave you my heart. You spat on it. How dare you ask me to-to-? _What the Hell do you want from me?_"

"Anakin, you're hurting me!" Her voice was barely a whisper. The very stillness of it was more telling than a shout.

He saw the fear in her eyes then and his eyes went to her wrist which he was seconds away from breaking in his metal grip. Appalled, he let her go at once.

Padmé put her hand to her mouth. He watched as the white indentations from his fingers on her wrist filled rapidly with blood; and he was horrified. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…"

He reached for her hand, thought she was holding it in pain and then he saw the little streams that had broken the banks in her eyes. She was trying to muffle her sobs. Her eyes never left him.

The Force was a tumultuous, explosive riot of pain, love and fear between them. It blurred the line where his feelings ended and hers began.

Anakin closed his eyes and made himself take a deep breath… then another one… then another one until his tears finally stopped.

His centre was too weighted in sorrow for him to lift it. He needed to get out of here. He had to go. He _should_ go.

"Anakin." His name was an anxious plea.

He shouldn't be around her the way he felt. He could hurt her. He _had_ hurt her. He should walk out of that door now and never look back…

"Anakin, don't."

_Leave me alone! Leave me alone!_

"Anakin, please don't leave me."

"Why not?" He asked, his eyes still closed against her plea. "That's what you wanted, wasn't it?"

His voice had gone flat, emotionless, but he didn't leave.

* * *

Padmé's breath came in ragged gasps. Her own tears had stopped but they might as well have been flowing for all the devastation that flooded her very soul. For a moment, Amidala struggled, grasping to reclaim the indifferent façade of the Ice Queen. But it had melted long ago, long before this meeting, long before she had made the decision to see him, long before they had met at Ohma D'Un. Maybe it had happened on a windy overlook in the Coruscant capitol.

_I'm so tired of being strong._

She gazed at Anakin, saw his spirit, his courage, his passion, his utter and unwavering devotion to her. Even now. Even after everything. He was unmistakable, undeniable. She wandered how she had ever thought she could live without him.

"Have you forgotten why I am here, Senator?" He asked suddenly. He didn't open his eyes.

More tears threatened at his impersonal use of her title and she forced them back. _No more tears, Padmé! _

He was still speaking, "We're in a war, Senator, a war where people are _dying_. The Jedi. My friends. Innocent people. They call me the Hero without Fear." He laughed bitterly. "I'm no hero, Padmé." He opened his eyes and the self-deprecation in them made her flinch. "Do you think I risk my life for the Republic? For the Jedi? This award? This medal of _honor_?" In a sudden motion, he tore it from around his neck. It clattered loudly on the floor.

_I know why you risk your life, Anakin. It's the same reason I do. _

Padmé moved away from the wall, coming to stand between Anakin and the fireplace. The fire was hot against her back, but the heat radiating off Anakin was infinitely more intense.

"Do you think I don't understand?"

He didn't speak or move, his eyes pointedly staring over her shoulder.

"I too have fought this war in my own way. For the Republic, for justice and peace." Padmé laughed, short and bitter. "To do that I am changing – no, I _have_ changed into something… something I don't want to be. Something that I hate. I hurt people because I'm hurting inside. I push on because to look back would be to give into despair. And then I ask myself if I am making any difference? If there is really a higher purpose to what I do or if I make-believe there is to justify the suicide of my soul. I ask myself: How can I fight for peace for others when I have none within myself?"

His eyes shifted. A shadow of the old empathy, the old sense of complete understanding shone in that familiar blue gaze.

Padmé didn't see it. Her head was bowed, defeated. This was a mistake. Yoda had been wrong, completely utterly wrong. She had hurt him beyond hope of mend. Anakin would never, ever forgive her.

"I never meant to hurt you," she whispered. "I hope you'll find it in your heart to one day forgive me."

Much as she struggled against them, more tears – stupid, foolish, belated tears of weakness – were already seeping past her lids. She thought she had felt pain like this before when she sent him away from her. She was wrong.

Gently, his hand closed around hers.

* * *

_Anakin, just let her go. End this. End this now. _

It wasn't even Obi-Wan's voice speaking reason in his mind. It was Anakin's own voice, the voice of fear, the voice of a man that had known first hand what it felt like to have the woman before him take his heart in her hands and crush it into infinitesimal pieces.

So why did not he not heed it?

Obi-Wan had once tried to make him understand the purpose of this War. What Obi-Wan had not realized was that he, Anakin, understood more than even Master Yoda. There was only one thing worth saving, one thing worth fighting for – saving those he loved. First his mother, then Padmé. If he let Padmé go now, then the Hero without Fear would never really have anything worth saving. Only one question burned in him at this moment… if Padmé was willing to be saved… _could_ he save her? Even if he could… how much of his own soul would be lost? Assuming it hadn't been lost already…

Padmé raised her head at the touch of his fingers and brown eyes met blue. Anakin stared into those deep pools of sorrow and begged her to be honest with him.

"What is it that you want from me, Padmé?"

* * *

The touch of his hand was like a lifeline. His question was like a death knell. The answer in Padmé's head had a hard time finding its way to her lips.

"I want you to forgive me," she said – begged. "I want you to not hate me."

How could a smile so beautiful be so broken?

"I don't hate you, Padmé." His chest rose and fell. "Not for want of trying, I assure you. You would think that would be easy to do, but it turns out that I _can't _hate you."

_No more tears, you stupid girl!_

"What about forgiveness?" she whispered. "Can you do that?"

His cut-glass blue eyes stabbed her.

She swallowed hard. Painfully. Fear like nothing she had felt before now filled her. She was terrified of saying the wrong thing. Irrationally, she was most afraid of losing him forever. The thought mocked her delusion that she'd reconciled that loss long ago.

"Anakin, the day I cast you away, it was like I… tied _my _fate with yours. I see the reports of the war, of you. I know _you_, Anakin. I know what drives you to do the things you do. Because they drive _me _as well. I know why you have no fear. I know what it is to feel you have nothing to lose."

"Well, it's true," he said stiffly. "I don't."

"You have me, Anakin. You will _always _have me."

He laughed. It wasn't a happy sound.

She continued boldly, "After Ohma D'un, I knew fear. Fear that I would die… a traitor to myself and to you. I couldn't live with myself if I left you in such pain. I've already done enough of that."

The bitter smile had melted from his face. He looked uncertain, confused.

She took in a deep breath, brushing her hair back with shaking hands, then moved closer to him. She was speaking slowly now, making sure that every word was clear. Making sure that he didn't miss anything she said. "It's as though we're back on Geonosis again and I stand at the edge of the end of my life. I'm not afraid of dying. With you or without you, I _die _everyday. You may never forgive me, but that will never stop me from loving you. Don't you understand, Anakin? I will _always_ love you."

The only sound in the room was the crackling fire.

They stood so closely now that she could feel the rise and fall of his chest. He opened his mouth but silence poured out. Those incredible blue eyes were locked with her own.

Tentatively, Padmé's hand reached up and touched his cheek. A little muscle worked in his jaw but his gaze did not flinch.

And because she could hold back no longer, she kissed him.

* * *

It was as if Anakin was watching it all happen from outside his body. Her lips moved against his immobile ones with fevered passion; but he was utterly numb.

"Anakin," she whispered into his mouth, her breath was joy and pain and life and death and it was enough. He felt her kisses then, so sweet they were bitter, so hot they were cool on his face… his cheeks… his lips… and it was not enough.

_Oh sweet Force!_

He caught her up against him then and kissed her back. Hard, desperate, frightened kisses. What was she doing to him? How he loved her, loved her, _loved her_…

He pulled her flush against his body, bent almost double as he buried his tongue in her mouth. Another woman might have been frightened. Padmé's arms tightened even more fiercely round his back, drawing him down into her. He was sinking, drowning, _dying_ in her kisses…

He _would _die. He couldn't do it, couldn't let himself be hurt again. It would kill him.

Abruptly, he pulled away, turning his shaking body away from her as he buried his face in his hands.

But she would not let him be. Her small fingers wrapped themselves around his arms, enflaming him where she touched. He shuddered violently.

"Please… please Anakin," she pleaded, "please."

It was the pain in her voice, not the passion, that moved him. He lowered his hands and turned to face her once more. Grief etched hard lines into her delicate features. He couldn't bear to see her in so much pain. Force help him, he never could.

But what did this mean?

"I don't understand, Padmé!" He cried. "What do you want?"

"You," she said with heartbreaking honesty. "I want you."

_Don't you know? It's never a matter of what we _want_, Anakin, but of what we _must_._

Those words that she had said to him not too long ago stood at the tip of his tongue, primed to hurl themselves at her; but he held them back. They would wound her and that was something he no longer had the strength to do.

"What has changed?" His voice rose in urgency. There was a line to be crossed here and he was perilously close to being pulled over. "How can I trust that you won't turn me away again?" _Don't you understand, Padmé, if I let go…if I give into this… I'll lose myself in you forever._

For a long moment, she merely looked at him, her eyes dark and unreadable. And he realized that he was more afraid of her answer than he had ever been of anything in his life.

When she finally responded, it was simply and earnestly.

"Why can't we just have tonight? Why must we always think about the future?"

Something inside him cracked.

It came down to this, then.

Save her or save himself. She would not allow him to do both.

"Just tonight." It was half a question, half a statement of intent. His voice was strangled with hope and misery.

"Just tonight."

Tears shimmered his vision. He felt like he was being torn in two, such was the extent of his agony.

Then her lips were on his again, this time with such tenderness it took his breath away and his fate was sealed. They held onto each other as if they would drown outside the protective confines of their embrace.

She had to stand on her tiptoes to kiss him. He had forgotten that.

Never once breaking away, Anakin deftly removed her cloak and was finally able to wrap his arms around her narrow waist. The shimmer velvet was soft beneath his fingers, but not soft enough.

Together they collapsed onto the soft rug in front of the fire, their legs refusing to support them any longer. His hand twisted in her hair, pulling her lips to his, crushing his mouth against hers.

"Padmé …" It was both a prayer and a plea.

Her answering moan, a sound born of the same need that raged through him, nearly drove him mad. The numerous layers of defenses that he had built around his heart for this woman were crumbling down like sand. An inferno was being unleashed. His hands were reaching for those places that he had given up any hope of touching, tearing through her gown where it stopped him. With every layer he removed, he couldn't get close enough to her. If the physical barriers between them were to vanish… if somehow they could share the same skin, the same heart, it still wouldn't be close enough.

She broke their kiss and he groaned in protest until he heard her voice in his ear. Her words seemed to resonate in his ribs, echo along the length and breadth of his entire body.

"I want you, Anakin." The intent of her words was clear and the trembling that had begun when he had entered this room grew from his core to encompass his entire body. She pulled his mouth back to hers with the urgency of someone who needed his kiss like they needed air to breathe.

Her hands reached for his tunic and his soul began to sing with joy. This was Padmé… _his_ Padmé…and she was touching him because she couldn't _not_ touch him. She _needed_ him, at least, for this one night.

Then he _was_ drowning in her… and she in him. They were drowning in each other.

The flickering light of the fire sputtered and danced. Somewhere beyond the sound-proof windows, the rain was committing suicide against the rooftops of Theed.

* * *

Obi-Wan paced.

The hall was emptying. The crowd had mostly dispersed and only a few honored Naboo, Palpatine and the Jedi remained. Anakin had disappeared. Barriss recounted her encounter with him after their medals had been presented. Careful inquiries had led them nowhere. No trace of Anakin could be found and Senator Amidala was unreachable. Obi-Wan had tried admitting to her handmaidens that they were aware of the decoy, but the young women had politely and firmly held their ground.

Obi-Wan didn't need to put two and two together. He was too busy trying not to imagine the activities his Padawan could be engaging in.

He should be upset; he should be worried. But a strange feeling was drifting in the Force and it filled Obi-Wan completely. It was a feeling of… contentment and it was coming from Anakin himself. Even without the added connection of their Master/Padawan bond, Anakin's extreme emotions had the power to affect all those near him. He was near – regardless of what Amidala's handmaidens claimed – and he was happy. More happy than Obi-Wan could ever remember.

Perhaps he had worked his problems out with Amidala after that disastrous encounter months ago. What that had involved was not something that Obi-Wan wanted to consider in too much detail. In the end, the only thing that mattered was that for the first time in a long time Anakin was _happy_.

That was, after all, the only thing Obi-Wan had ever wanted for his Padawan.

The storm had ended. It was going to be a clear morning.


End file.
